Never Let Me Go
by countmeawake
Summary: Stiles was human. Just that. Not a werewolf or a skilled archer, just human. After an encounter with omega werewolves, Derek vows to blossom the teen into a fighter. Yet other feelings start to blossom too. Will Derek's over-protectiveness ruin their growing bond? Or will it be something else entirely? Rated M for language/smut - COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first fic, so don't hate me! Thanks to my beta Kristina ****_(tumblr url: lokigodofass)_**** for checking over this and making sure I wasn't completely crap at this type of stuff. Reviews/follows/favorites are welcome! (Also, I am British. I tried to Americanize this story so if you see any wrong spellings they're probably the British way so please forgive me) I aim to publish a chapter every week, maybe two a week dependent on how my life is/whether I can be bothered!**

**Responses are also very welcome as it will encourage me to write more, thanks!**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters of Teen Wolf, or the show itself (Although if I did, there'd be Sterek every other scene)**

**This doesn't really follow the plotline of the show as it stands. Jackson is human and Lydia isn't crazy, yet Allison knows about werewolves, and Derek is an alpha and such.**

**So, enjoy!**

* * *

CHAPTER 1

"No."

"Please Stiles!"

"No! I'm fed up of covering for you!"

"Just this once, I swear I will never ask again."

"You said that the last time," Stiles heaved a sigh and got up from Scott's bed, straightening his jeans and grabbing his keys from the desk, "and look where it got me, your mom found out and my dad found out and I wasn't allowed out for a week."

"Like you go out anywhere other than with me," Scott smiled a goofy smile, and Stiles glared at him.

"That is beside the point. I am not covering for you so you can go and do whatever you do with Allison in the woods, Scott."

Stiles fiddled with his keys and took a step forward towards the bedroom door and turned back, looking at his friend who had brought out the puppy eyes.

"You know that's kind of ironic, you with your puppy eyes," he said, rolling his own, "you being a werewolf and all that. Still not going to work though."

"I'll do your homework for a week?" Scott asked almost pleadingly, and Stiles laughed, throwing his head back.

"YOU do my homework?" he remarked, pointing to Scott, "you're kidding me right? I get straight A's."

"Please Stiles? I know you do a lot for the pack, myself included but I haven't seen Allison in almost three days and it's killing me," Scott moaned, sitting down on the chair in the corner of his room and (rather dramatically, Stiles noticed) putting his face in his hands with an exasperated sigh, "we can't text or email because her stupid dad monitors everything, and my mom still thinks we broke up..."

"FINE! Fine, anything to get you to stop gushing. If your mom calls, you're with me and my house. Dad's working late at the station anyway and he probably will be for the next few days, something about a dead body just outside of tow..." He was interrupted rather rudely by Scott who piped up and stared at Stiles intently.

"A new murder? You don't think..." Scott started but Stiles held up a hand to cut him short.

"Nah, nothing supernatural I don't think. This is just outside of town; they're just roping in local sheriffs to help solve it."

Scott raised an eyebrow. "You sure?" He asked, wary.

"Yes, don't get all up in a fuss about a murder that has nothing to do with you, Scott. Wow sometimes you really need to keep back on the werewolf stuff and be a normal guy for a change, jeez. Which is why..." He sighed, knowing he'd regret his next few words, "I guess I'll help you tomorrow," he looked at Scott, who beamed at his best friend.

"Thank you so much Stiles, you won't regret it!" He grinned, pulling his best friend in for a bone crushing hug.

"Yeah, yeah whatever, save all this intimacy crap for Allison, I don't want a preview thank you very much," Stiles replied, rolling his eyes, and pulling away from the teen wolf, "I need to get home anyway, it's late." He looked at his watch, "Wow actually, really late. What have we been doing for the past three hours? Oh that's right, wasting my time," Stiles announced to Scott, whose grin was slowly replaced by a scowl.

"Like you'd be doing anything productive back at your place!" Scott replied.

"Ouch, is it 'let's insult Stiles for being a procrastinator' day?" He remarked, a pretend look of hurt on his face as he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Go home."

Stiles waved goodbye and walked out to his jeep and climbed in. He closed the door and rested his head on the seat. Well that's his plan for tomorrow then, staying indoors just in case a parent calls so his best friend could see his girlfriend. He figured he should be catching up on some homework anyway, so he thought to himself that he really shouldn't moan...but was that all his life was now? Some shitty sidekick to his best friend? A scape goat for when werewolves needed to see their other halves? Why couldn't he be the Batman for once?

Did werewolves even go into heat? That was definitely something he'd be researching tomorrow, via internet of course, there was no way on this earth he was going to ask Scott or Derek.

He revved up the engine to his jeep and it gave its usual small splutter before starting, and he took one last look at Scott's house before he pulled away and drove off into the night.

* * *

"Oh man, you have got to be kidding me."

Stiles hammered his fists against the steering wheel of his jeep violently as the engine started to splutter. "You can't die on me now; we're in the middle of fucking nowhere." With a last choking gasp, the jeep completely gave out and Stiles pulled it to the side of the road before it stopped completely.

He exhaled and leaned back in his seat. It was eleven o'clock at night for Christ's sake; he didn't need this shit now. He pulled out his phone from his jeans pocket and looked at the screen, cursing aloud at his lack of signal. "Just like a fucking horror movie," Stiles laughed to himself, and pulled on the handle to open the jeep door.

He wandered around for five minutes on the side of the road, hoping for a car to flag down, or at least some bars on his phone to call his dad. He sighed after no luck with either, and pulled the zip up on his jacket to create extra warmth. He strolled back to the jeep to take a look under the bonnet so he could at least pretend to himself that he knew what to do.

A rustle of bushes came from his left, and Stiles whipped his head round to take a look between the trees. He saw nothing, only the shadows of the trees made by the moon's light. "It really is like a horror movie," he whispered to himself and smirked. He walked back over to his jeep and popped the bonnet, and in a desperate attempt to see the damage, he stuck his head in and had a look around, fully knowing he had no idea what he was doing.

Suddenly, the whole jeep shook. The bonnet slammed down onto him as he recoiled back in pain, hand reaching up to inspect the soon-to-be-huge lump on the back of his head. He looked up to the top of the jeep and let out a sigh.

_Oh great, _he thought to himself, _a fucking werewolf_.

It took him precisely a second to gather his thoughts and figure out that a) this was not Scott or Derek, and b) he should be scared. Very scared.

A cold and pale hand twisted around his neck revealing a second werewolf as Stiles cried out in pain as his airflow was restricted, his eyes never leaving the amber ones of werewolf #1.

"Not even a 'hello' or a 'can I buy you a drink' before you get all touchy feely, huh?" he said, swivelling his head slightly to address werewolf #2, his voice slow, and dripping with sarcasm. When no response emerged, he sighed dramatically and raised his eyebrows.

"What do you want, huh? As you can see I am having enough trouble as it is without a few werewolves getting in my way." He raised his arms and gestured towards his jeep, now complete with a dent in the top from where the first werewolf landed. He groaned inwardly. _Fantastic _he thought, _that's another couple hundred bucks to get that fixed_.

"We want Hale," werewolf #1 demanded clearly and Stiles' eyes grew wider upon hearing the familiar name.

Stiles looked #1 up and down. He looked about six foot tall, and aside from the obvious regular werewolf features, he was built like a house.

"I have no idea who you are talking about," Stiles replied, keeping calm and lying through his teeth. His neck was starting to ache from being so restricted, and in order to get out of it, he needed to A) lie, B) run away, or C) die.

And he really hoped it didn't have to come to plan C.

"Liar!" Werewolf #2 shouted in his ear and Stiles winced. "We can smell him all over your jeep."

Well that was plan A out of the question. _Fucking Hale and his inability to not get shot _Stiles thought to himself, remembering the damn leather jacket Derek forgot to pick up that was still in the back. He made a mental note to bleach every corner of his jeep next time a werewolf hitches a ride.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Stiles repeated, unusually calm. He could see the werewolves didn't believe him, so he had to think of another plan quick. Before he died. And oh man he did not want to die.

Stiles, however lazy he may be at schoolwork, was always a man of action when it came to supernatural shit like this. He'd had plenty of practice, considering his best friend being a werewolf and all.

Time to act fast.

"You're thinking of going after the alpha?" he almost grinned, "bit of a dick move, don't you think?"

Werewolf #1's eyes widened and he grew still.

"Derek is an alpha?" Werewolf #2 responded, and tightened his grip on Stiles' neck, causing him to cry out in pain.

"Yes," came the teen's reply with a huff of breath, twist slightly in a feeble attempt to feel less pain and discomfort with no such luck, "and no need to be so tight dude, this is only a first date!"

His elbow collided with the werewolf's ribs as hard as it could, sending a shot of pain up his arm and we winced. Flesh collided with bone, and before the werewolf could tolerate a growl, the grip slackened leaving Stiles enough room to bend his body to the side and escape, running for the woods as fast as he could.

Plan B it was then.

He knew he couldn't outrun werewolves. He knew he was probably going to die tonight, but hey, what's the fun in dying without annoying a few of them first?

If he lived, he was going to kill Derek for this. He had no idea how, but he was going to do it. A few months ago he was just a normal teenager with a normal life and a normal best friend, but oh no. Now everything was different. Now he had to change his life, and keep secrets from his dad to accommodate every wolf in this town.

He grimaced at the pain in his elbow. Damn werewolves and their strength.

He ran deeper into the woods, tripping over roots and slamming into stray branches. Growls from behind him told him they were getting closer.

Stiles tripped, and something jabbed into his left leg, hard. He cried out with pain as his hands flew out in front of him, slamming solid into the damp ground as he fell flat on his face. He lay there for a millisecond, enjoying the quiet, and the slight breeze rustling the trees before he knew he'd have to get back up and run, ignoring the pain that was exploding from just about everywhere on his body. Sweat dripped into his eyes as he moved himself to get back up and make a run for it frantic not to look behind him.

A gunshot.

A terrifying howl from a wolf.

A pair of strong arms lifted him and pulled him behind a tree, a hand snaking around his mouth and blocking his speech.

_This is it_, he thought, _this is when I die._

"Stop whimpering," a calm voice whispered from behind him and Stiles turned around to face the familiar voice.

The sight of Derek's face sent a huge wave of relief wash over himself and he almost sobbed with joy, completely forgetting the earlier promise to himself to kill this wolf. Derek had often wanted to kill him, he knew that, but obviously not tonight. He was safe...ish... for now in the arms of the alpha.

The two wolves emerged into the clearing, one carrying the other in its arms with a pained expression etched onto his face. Werewolf #2 looked as if he had been shot, a purple like smoke wisped from a wound in his upper right arm accompanied by his white shirt drenched in dark red blood.

Stiles knew what that was, and didn't batter an eyelid when he heard Derek inhale sharply from behind him. It was a bullet like the one that Derek had been shot with that nearly killed him. A wolfsbane bullet. Which must mean...

"Looks like we've got ourselves a couple of werewolves!" a voice almost sang from behind a gathering of trees.

Chris Argent emerged from seemingly nowhere, gun slung over his shoulder, followed by three burly men. The moonlight bounced off just one side of Chris' face, making him seem that much more startling. He wasn't just Allison's dad, he was a hunter. And a pretty nasty one at that.

_"Sons are trained to be soldiers; daughters are trained to be leaders."_

He remembered the daunting phrase Allison had once told him, and the way Chris was stood, he had trained to be a soldier all right. The gun didn't exactly give him an innocent look either.

Werewolf #1 without a second thought dropped the other and took off at full speed heading west, running as fast as he could leaving his whining companion behind, bleeding out on the floor and in clear pain.

Chris Argent held up his right hand. "Leave it," he said to the shortest of the three men who had reached for his rifle, "he'll be back. They always return."

Stiles watched from behind the tree. He could feel Derek's muscles tense on his back, preparing himself in case of an attack.

Chris walked over to the werewolf and looked down at him with fury. "An omega werewolf, huh? Where did your friend go?" He smashed his boot down onto the werewolf's wound and it cried out in pain, shifting from both anger and fear.

"Now now, no need to shift, it's not like you're going to be alive for very much longer," Chris remarked, smiling a cruel smile that accentuated the wrinkles upon his forehead.

"Fuck you," the werewolf spat and twisted, his arm free of the boot, but he writhed in pain at the sudden movement and his face contorted into a grimace.

"Take him," Chris gestured towards the weak werewolf, looking over his shoulder at the fellow hunters, "no need to kill him now, he'll be dead soon anyway. I give it 48 hours."

The three men picked up the dying werewolf and carried him out of the clearing, Chris following closely behind, a sick grin plastered on his face.

Stiles and Derek stayed silent for a minute, and Stiles finally let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. They both breathed in unison just for a minute, to calm down, but to also take in what had just happened.

What _had _just happened? First Stiles was being chased by werewolves, next they were getting killed? This fucking town.

He felt the werewolf's hand leave his mouth, yet he said nothing. He felt faint and dizzy, his head was pounding and his left leg was throbbing.

"You're bleeding," Derek whispered through his teeth, looking down at the wound. Stiles followed his eyes and noticed a small branch that had clawed into his leg had ripped through his flesh just underneath his knee, leaving a four inch deep gash that was now gushing blood.

The sinister crimson liquid made Stiles' stomach turn and he felt sick. "Huh," was all he could muster from his mouth, followed by a strangled sound that felt as if his throat was about to combust.

He abruptly began to feel extremely drained. The world span as he closed his eyes and darkness washed over him, tiny spots of light...no, _stars_ filled his vision.

Then immediately everything was black. He felt himself slump against a mud-drenched Derek, his head slamming into Derek's chest as he sensed arms clinging to him tight and pulling him into a fireman's hold over the wolf's shoulder, but Stiles said nothing.

_If this is death_, he thought, _it isn't half bad_.

His mind went as blank as his vision and he gave into the darkness completely.

* * *

**So there it is! First chapter. Please review/follow/favourite or whatever you want to do, it'll probably encourage me to write more. You know how it is. Thanking you kindly.**


	2. Chapter 2

**So this chapter was up earlier than I thought it was gonna be, I just can't seem to stop writing about this pair.**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters of Teen Wolf, or the show itself (Although if I did, there'd be Sterek every other scene)**

* * *

CHAPTER 2

"Oh for f..."

Derek managed to contain both himself and his curses as he looked down at the human resting against his chest. The teen was still breathing...at least that was a good sign. However the faint red blush had gone from his cheeks and he looked a deathly pale colour which contrasted greatly against the mud-sodden tank top Derek had on. His eyes wandered over Stiles' dirt and sweat drenched body and down to his leg to check just how bad the cut was.

The flow of blood seemed to be slowing down, however if he didn't want to the teen to get an infection from being on the damp ground, he needed to tend to Stiles' wound. And quick.

He freed an arm from under Stiles and lifted it to run his hand through his black hair, making it seem dishevelled and messy. He inhaled and moved, twisting from underneath Stiles to stand up, simultaneously holding him close to his chest and then throwing him over his shoulder in an attempt to carry the teenager back to his. He made a mental note to himself not to forget Stiles' crappy jeep, and told himself to remember to do something with it later. Derek had always been a dab hand at cars, and knowing Stiles, it was probably something miniscule that just needed to be fixed.

Silently, he moved through the woods, knowing he wasn't a hundred percent safe until he was home. His muscles tensed in preparation for whatever could attack him at any moment, his senses heightened as he walked deeper into the woods and deeper into the darkness.

But then again, was he ever safe? Since he came back to this crappy little town in Beacon County he always seemed to run into trouble, with both human and supernatural beings. Like now for instance he was only simply out for a late night run as he couldn't sleep and he just happened to stumble upon a bunch of hunters.

And Stiles. Oh, Stilinski. Always getting in to trouble. No, wait, always seeming to want to FIND trouble. Derek gripped on to the troublesome teen's legs harder as he started to run quicker, not caring if a light bruise formed there tomorrow. Safety was more important than pain. Luckily his house was only a mile or two away. What the hell was Stiles doing out here at such a time by himself anyway? Usually if he was finding trouble he was with Scott and Scott surely wouldn't just run off and leave another member of the pack alone. That was not pack code.

The walk back to the Hale household was thankfully pretty much noiseless as he didn't hear a peep from Stiles, whose shallow but steady breathing was sending light vibrations against his right shoulder, reinforcing Derek that he had not yet died. He thought of his life and how it had ended up at this. He thought of Kate Argent and her fake infatuation for him that he stupidly fell for, which resulted in his family dead. He thought of the dead former-alpha, his uncle, and finally his sister. These thoughts often consumed him whilst he sat at home in front of his fire at night, alone. His eyes grew red at the anger and he stopped for a second to calm down, not wanting to shift at such a critical time with a teenager over one shoulder. Once his shuddering had stopped, he carried on walking, and the thoughts of his former life consumed him once more. There was a slight part of him, however tiny it was, that hoped Stiles would just stop being a pansy and wake up, just so he could listen to his ceaseless droning, just to drown out his inner thoughts. But the silence didn't shift.

Derek was strong. He was tough and dependable and now as a pack leader, as an alpha, he needed to be stronger than ever. He _willed_ himself to be stronger. Not just physically, but mentally. He needed to train the pack and get them up to a standard he was comfortable with, because if anything like this was going to happen again, they needed to be ready. And they needed someone mentally willing to put up with their shit if they were going to become strong betas. In fact, they needed to be taught to be mentally willing themselves.

Stiles unfortunately, he could not do much for. Yes Derek noticed his intelligence and his wit and ability to come up with a half decent plan, but as a human, and therefore human strength, he was virtually useless right now. Even Allison was skilled at archery despite not being a werewolf; so he had no worries for her. Plus even if she was in trouble, McCall would just drop everything he was doing to rescue that girl. She was also a pretty good spy, considering her dad was the chief werewolf hunter of the town and she just so happened to be his daughter. And also dating a werewolf. Man, this town was messed up in places.

Stiles didn't want the bite, Derek knew that. Stiles, although he was more susceptible injuries and...well...death than to a werewolf, Derek thought that perhaps Stiles was more _useful _as a human. Werewolves seemed to lose their way when fighting. One of their primary intentions is to survive, yes. But another is to protect the pack, to not let others get harmed. So maybe the mind of a human would keep the wolves in check, keep them safe somehow. Maybe he could train him to be a dab hand with a knife.

He inwardly sighed. That would require a _lot _of patience. From Derek more than Stiles. He was pretty sure that Stiles would love to stab him a few times, and he almost cracked a smile at the thought of the teen lunging at him with a blade.

He finally reached his house and dropped Stiles on to the sofa, moving into the kitchen and to the top cupboard to find some sort of sponge or clean cloth to wipe away the blood. Once stumbling upon an old rag, he rinsed it out thoroughly and walked back into the room where Stiles lay, and he sat down on the floor in front of the still human.

"Idiot," he mumbled to Stiles, gently letting the rag run over the wound on Stiles' leg, cleaning up excess blood from around the cut and the cut itself to prevent infection. It looked pretty bad, and he knew that the hospital wasn't exactly the best place to go with Stiles looking like he'd just been in a mud wrestling match gone wrong.

He eyed the teen, starting with Stiles' head, down past his prominent jaw-line and settled upon his collar bones and exposed neck, noticing the dark shadow of a bruise beginning to form, a huge distinction from his pale skin. He wondered if Stiles was hiding anything under those thousands of layers of clothing, some arm muscles maybe, something to help him train and become a better pack member physically, and pondered why he always covered himself up like this. He figured it must just be a Stiles thing, and pushed the thought to one side.

He reached into his pocket and lifted out his phone, pressing speed dial 2 and held the phone up to his ear.

"Erica?" He said quietly, "I need you to get down here and bring some sort of sewing kit and a bandage." Without bothering to hear a reply he ended the call and leaned forward to inspect the gash on Stiles' leg.

_At least Stiles is quiet for once_, Derek thought to himself and almost chuckled. Almost.

A few minutes later he heard his door open and the tip-tap of Erica's heels shuffle across the hard wood flooring.

"What have you done?" Erica asked slowly, her eyes wide at the teen on the sofa. "Did you kill him?"

"If I killed him, do you think I'd ask for a sewing kit and a bandage? Moron, leave."

"But..." Erica started, yet was cut off by a rather angry alpha.

"Look. It's bad enough having another person besides me in the house, let alone two extras. You can leave." Derek replied, not even bothering to look at her face as he turned back around to face Stiles. The closing of his door meant he was now able to work in peace. He ripped off a clean part of his tank top and wrapped it round Stiles' leg just above the cut to form a tourniquet to stem the gradual flow of blood to a mere trickle, and began to sew up the wound. Good job he was passed out, otherwise this would have been one hell of a task considering he had no form of anaesthesia in the house. He then ran the damp cloth over the now-closed wound once more and began to bandage it up, careful not to be too rough because he didn't think he could handle Stiles' incessant talking if he woke up right now.

Once finished, he threw the rag onto the table and leant back on the floor, his back leaning against the sofa. The fire in front of him was still blazing and crackling, the heat making him tired.

He wasn't just tired, he was _exhausted_. Both physically and mentally. It took him every last ounce of energy to take off his now-useless tank top and throw it to the other side of the room before he dropped his head against his chest and fell asleep, not even bothering to carry himself up the stairs and to his bed.

* * *

He woke up a few hours later in the near-dark, the fire burning its last embers before going out completely. Dim light was peeping through the curtains, so Derek knew it must have to be early morning. He twisted his head slightly to check on Stiles, who had thankfully moved during his nap, showing signs of some kind of health. He lifted a hand to run through his hair and he squinted his eyes in a near-desperate attempt to wake himself up and to not fall back asleep again. Sleeping in that position for any longer would have not done wonders to his neck, werewolf or not.

"Stiles," he hissed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands and standing up.

"Stiles," he hissed through his teeth again, after the teen had not moved.

Stiles stirred and opened one eye, groaning. "Why am I on your sofa?" He asked confused, after taking a look round and noticing he was not at his home.

"You passed out so I had to stitch you up. We better get you back before your dad wakes up."

A mumble of "good plan" came from Stiles and he slowly sat up and moaned loudly at the pain.

Derek only stood there, arms crossed over his torso as he watched the boy attempt to stand up. "What happened?" Derek asked, his eyes intent on Stiles' face.

"Last night...well...a few hours ago you mean?" Stiles asked, looking up at the alpha. Derek nodded so Stiles continued.

"I was coming home from Scott's; he wanted me to make an alibi for him and Allison tomorrow because they haven't seen each other in almost three days..." He was interrupted by Derek scoffing and Stiles smiled, "I know right, anyway," he continued, his hands moving down to his leg to check out the handiwork, "my jeep just stopped, so I got out to have a look, and BAM a werewolf grabbed me from behind, another one in front...Derek..." Stiles hesitated, looking at the older man, "they asked for you."

Derek visibly stiffened and Stiles carried on, his eyes not leaving the alpha. "Don't worry I didn't tell them where you were. Pack confidentiality and all that. Anyway they seemed shaken and scared at the fact you were an alpha after I told them, so I elbowed the one holding me in the ribs and I took off. Then I fell...then you found me." His eyes travelled up to meet Derek's, which were cold and hard, not giving away any sense of emotion Derek felt within him. He didn't really know what emotions he was feeling himself.

Derek didn't say anything for a minute, taking in the jabbering of Stiles. He tensed his muscles and narrowed his eyes at Stiles, who seemed to recoil from the sudden glare.

"I didn't tell them anything apart from the fact you're an alpha I swear," Stiles replied quickly, holding up his hands in a mock surrender, "they smelled your scent on my jeep from when you were shot a while back so they knew I was lying when I told them I knew nothing."

"It's fine," Derek said, his eyes softening slightly, "Don't worry about it, It's probably nothing. You're okay now, I'll start the car." He started walking out of the room and opening the front door.

"Don't you think you'd better put on a shirt first?" Stiles inquired, slowly standing up from the sofa and testing out whether his leg was safe to walk on. He winced slightly, but found the pain was manageable, "people might think you're weird. More so than they already do."

"It's five in the morning!" Derek replied, frustration in his voice, but he shut the front door anyway and walked up the stairs to his room and picked out a black tank top.

"Are tank tops all you have, Derek, hmm? Sleeveless shirts to show off your wolf muscles?" Stiles asked, managing a smile on his pale face as Derek emerged from the hallway.

"Get in the car," Derek replied calmly, opening the front door and letting Stiles walk out to the sleek black Camero, "after being nearly killed by werewolves, stabbed in the leg by a branch and passing out for hours I see you can still conjure up some sarcasm." He raised his eyebrows at Stiles, who merely smirked.

"Of course, Stiles and sarcasm are one," he retorted, getting into the car and not waiting to see Derek's face at his lame attempt at humor in the third person.

Derek simply sighed and got in the car, starting up the engine. "Your jeep is still on the side of the road a few miles out," Derek informed, "I'll have a look at it later on."

"Thank you," Stiles replied, and Derek looked over at him.

"It's just a jeep Stiles there's nothing to be thank..."

"No," Stiles interjected, shaking his head and looking down at his hands, "Not just that...I mean thanks for saving me. My life. Regardless if bastard Argent and his three merry men had showed up, that damn werewolf still would have ripped out my throat, so...thanks. I guess."

Derek looked back and the road and his jaw hardened. He hated awkward situations.

"I guess I was in the right place at the right time," he shrugged, not taking his eyes off the road ahead, "you're a pack member. We all look out for each other remember?"

Nothing else was said on the drive back to Stiles'. A simple nod through the passenger window was an acceptable enough "thank you" for Derek and he drove away, leaving Stiles to hobble back into his house and get to where he fully ought to be. His bed.

Derek was on edge all the way back to his house. Why did those werewolves want him?

_Well_, he thought, amused. _Werewolf_.

What had he possibly done to piss off a few omegas from outside of town? He thought back through his life the past few years, travelling round the country and visiting his sister every now and again, anything to get away from what his life once was. He didn't remember doing anything remotely irritating; his intent was to stay in the shadows, to not be noticed. To pretend he didn't exist.

He observed Stiles' jeep alongside the road and pulled up, getting out of his car and popping the hood of the other, inspecting inside to see what Stiles could have possibly done to this jeep to make it stop. Actually, by the way it looked, he almost praised Stiles for keeping it alive for so long. Detecting it was a simple job of tightening some loose objects, he jump started the jeep and it worked completely fine.

"Idiot," he mumbled to himself, thinking of Stiles and his complete incapability of being able to check an engine, even a crappy one like this.

He drove it back to Stiles' and left the keys in the glove box, hoping the boy was asleep so he didn't have to face any confrontation from the blabbering teen once more.

* * *

**So there we have it! Remember to review and such, they're always welcome :) Next chapter should be up within the next few days I think!**

**If you want to follow me on twitter, I am countmeawake, I am sure if you wanted spoilers I'd probably give you one, I'm a bit like that oops.**


	3. Chapter 3

**So here's the new chapter! I am super sorry if it isn't up to standards, I was pretty pleased with this chapter yet I haven't really been myself lately, (I have exam results coming up and I am so scared) and other things and such. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

CHAPTER 3

Stiles woke with a start.

He opened one eye and turned his head to look at his alarm clock which was making a ringing so loud his ears were nearly exploding. The red numbers on the digital clock read seven thirty, so he lifted the covers off his body, shut off the ringing and walked over to his floor-length mirror, inspecting his near-naked self, scantily clad in only black boxer briefs. He was exhausted. Of _course _he was exhausted. In the past twelve hours he'd nearly died, been carried back to an old abandoned house in the middle of nowhere, sewn up by a werewolf and had approximately five hours sleep to top it all off. And he had school today. The icing on top of this bizarre cake.

His eyes roamed from the bruise on his slender neck where the werewolf had gripped him tight and had left a rather large mark, down to his left side, which was nearly black and blue from falling over on to the hard ground the night before. His eyes then travelled further down to rest on his leg, the white bandage looking rather outlandish against his skin.

_Derek has done a good job_, he thought to himself and laughed. An alpha that could sew. What other skills was he hiding, a secret knitting drawer? The possibilities of that man's hobbies were endless considering the only two things that most people knew about him in town were his name and the fact most of his family were killed in a fire.

He wondered where werewolf #2 was. Was he with Chris Argent's three musketeers? Or perhaps he was already dead. He knew it hadn't been 48 hours, but then Derek was nearly dead after 24 so perhaps these bullets worked faster than originally thought. His spine tingled with fear thinking just how much crap this town was holding, yet only a few knowing what actually existed in Beacon Hill.

He walked over to his wardrobe and opened it, pulling out an old pair of blue jeans, a dark green tee and a red and blue checked shirt to go over the top. After putting each item of clothing on slowly, wincing slightly each time a muscle was strained; he grabbed his bag from his desk and walked down the stairs to greet his dad in the kitchen, who was just about ready to bounce out of the house and to the station.

"Dad?" Stiles said questioningly, cocking his head to the side slightly and raising one eyebrow at his dad's sudden energy. His dad was always a morning person, which confused Stiles greatly as for as long as he'd existed, he _hated _mornings. So he clearly didn't get that gene from his father.

"Gotta go Stiles, we've got a lead on that case just outside town," the Sheriff said, popping a piece of toast into his mouth without bothering to butter it, and picking up his gun from the table.

"Oh really? Care to elaborate?" Stiles drawled, sitting down and pouring himself some cereal.

"Stiles you're a teenager. You're my son. I am not having you know so much about this case," he half shouted yet not bothering to look back, grabbing his coat from the banister, "just worry about your own problems. Like school work perhaps?"

"I'll talk to you later about it then!" Stiles shouted to his dad as he heard the front door slam, and he was alone in his house yet again.

His leg throbbed a little as he ate his cereal, but he knew that it would be like this for the next few days. Damn his human life.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he reached down to retrieve it, checking the screen to see a text from Derek.

"_Jeep is out front. You're welcome."_

Stiles' mouth curled into a small smile and he tapped away at his phone.

_"Thnx, c u l8r at pack meeting."_

He put his phone down and carried on with his cereal, surprised by his phone buzzing once more, and even more surprised to see another text from the alpha himself.

_"What have I told you about using text speech to me?"_

"_That if I use it, you will rip my throat out..." _Stiles text back and sighed.

_"That's a promise." _Derek's simple text sent a small shudder down Stiles' spine.

Not bothering to reply (he felt as if there was no need, the big bad werewolf had seemed to get his point across pretty clearly), he got up from his chair and ambled over to the kitchen sink to leave his bowl on the side.

He reached Scott's house in record time, pushing on the brakes until his jeep came to a stop. _Wow, not even a splutter anymore, this werewolf is good_. Stiles thought inwardly, and pushed on the horn once to tell Scott to hurry his ass up.

That boy really needed to get his own car.

"Thanks again for yesterday buddy," Scott assured his friend once he got in the passenger seat, "it really means a lot."

"You will never guess what happened to me last night after I left here," Stiles replied, not wanting to delve into yet _another _conversation about Allison.

He started the story, going through the werewolves, and Argent's sudden appearance, and being rescued by Derek, not bothering to pause for Scott's gasps and looks of worry and once he'd finished they were at school.

No sooner than he had switched off the engine, his phone buzzed yet again and he picked it out from his phone pocket to answer it. "Oh would you look at me, Mr Popular this morning," he mumbled to himself, and looked over to see Scott staring at him, being nosy as per usual.

_"Come to my house after school before pack meeting. Tell no-one, not even your whiny best friend."_

He replied a simple "_Okay_" and slid his phone back into his pocket, resting his head against the steering wheel.

_Oh man_. Y_et another text from the ever so mysterious werewolf._

What the hell did he want this time? This was too much Derek in twenty four hours, more than he could cope with. Having the thought that the wolf could rip out your throat at any time stuck in your head wasn't exactly a good way to go about the day that's for sure.

He contemplated for a moment, staring at the text like it was some kind of alien. What did he want? Why his house? Why tell no one?

"You okay bud?" Scott asked, leaning in slightly to get a better look of Stiles' face, which was still against the wheel.

"Yeah fine," Stiles replied, leaning back and sitting normally, "just my dad being his usual self."

Scott nodded as if he understood, and jumped out of the jeep, slamming the door behind him.

"Hey! Watch the jeep, man!" Stiles shouted, and got out himself. Scott shrugged and threw his bag over his shoulder.

He had six and a half hours of school to cope with before any of these downright weird questions could be answered.

And he had a feeling, considering it was Derek and all, they wouldn't really be answered anyway.

Lunch soon came, and yet again Scott and Allison were sucking face just across the table from Stiles. He swallowed his mouthful of curly fries and sighed dramatically, waving his hands in the air to try and get himself noticed, with no avail.

He got up to leave a minute later, leaving his empty tray behind when Scott pulled himself away and looked at Stiles. "We still on for tonight buddy?" He asked, smiling slightly.

"You do realize there's a pack meeting tonight right," Stiles said to Scott, whose face dropped at the same time as Allison's, "which means no wood sex for you tonight. Gutted."

Revelling in his triumph, he grabbed his bag and walked away from the table, grinning at himself for his small victory.

The bell soon rang for the end of school and before Scott could hitch a ride, he was in his jeep and out of the car park faster than you could say werewolf. He looked at the clock on his dash board. Three hours exactly before the pack meeting. Which meant three hours for Derek to do whatever he was going to do with Stiles.

He laughed at the obvious innuendo, smirking at the idea of him and Derek sharing a little more than a conversation together. He had always found Derek attractive, but in that "if I even _think _about you being ugly I know you will find out and rip me to shreds" kind of way. Plus, he'd had a crush on Lydia for ten years. That's where his affection lay.

Did he have a sexuality? He didn't know to be precise, but he didn't really care. He was young; he had time to figure out his life before he settled down with whatever human...or supernatural being would take him.

He pulled up outside Derek's house and turned off his jeep, failing to be surprised when he saw the alpha appear at his window a millisecond later.

"You gotta stop creeping up on me man, I might have to pull out the ninja moves on you," Stiles remarked, turning off his jeep and stepping out, "shit can get real nasty."

Derek merely looked at Stiles, showing no emotion whatsoever as he crossed his arms. A flicker of condescension suddenly crossed his eyes and Stiles lowered his head, feeling beaten.

"What are we doing today anyway? What do you want me for? Oh man if it's to spy on Scott or something I don't think I can do that I've got enough shit to deal with at the moment as it is and..."

"Shut up," Derek ordered, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, "I'm teaching you how to fight."

Stiles just stood there, looking up at the man. "You...what?" He hesitated, as Derek gave him another scowl.

"Fight. You know, moving your body around in an attack in an attempt to win?"

"I know what a fight is Derek there's no need to be so patronizing..."

"Well then let's get to it," he interrupted Stiles yet again and gestured with his hand for Stiles to follow him round the back of the house.

The back yard was messy, the short grass almost a grey-like colour from lack of sun or water. A big oak tree stood tall in the middle and, upon closer inspection, a knife seemed to be sticking out from the bark. Derek walked over and snatched the dagger from the tree, holding the blade for Stiles to take the hilt.

"You want me to fight with a knife?" Stiles asked, a look of confusion etched upon his face, taking the blade and looking it over in his hands. The blade itself was about seven inches long, the hilt about five. On one side of the dagger, a jagged edge gleamed in the sunlight, secretly terrifying Stiles at the thought that one swift move from this dagger in the right place and he would have killed a person stone dead.

The knife felt strangely light and uneasy in his hands, the mahogany wood from the hilt smooth in his palm. He noticed a triskele pattern on one side of the hilt, the exact same pattern as the tattoo Derek had on his back. _Must be an old family thing_, Stiles thought quickly, not giving it a second look.

"Yes I want you to fight," Derek answered slowly, as if Stiles had just asked the most stupid question in the universe, "if you've noticed, you're pretty much the weakest in the pack." Stiles scoffed, but didn't deny his words. "You and Allison may be the only humans, but she's got a bow that could kill a man from a mile away. What have you got?"

"My incredible looks to dazzle them before I karate chop them in the face?" Stiles asked, amusing himself.

Derek growled quietly and Stiles shut up.

"Like I was saying, you're the weakest. So I am going to teach you how to fight."

"Like it's hard to fight with a knife Derek, come on look at it." Stiles lifted up the dagger and twisted it around his fingers, admiring its beauty as the light bounced off the blade, "A quick stab in the heart and BAM he's dead."

"Okay then," Derek said, unfolding his arms and stepping a few paces back, "give it a go."

Stiles raised an eyebrow. "On you? You want me to stab you?"

"I heal quickly," Derek replied, shrugging his shoulders and standing upright, arms by his side as he prepared for the attack.

Stiles laughed. "Piece of cake. Stabbing you should be fun," he said, crouching and bringing the knife up to chest height.

The adrenaline coursing through him made him completely forget the dull throbbing in his leg as he sprang forward at the alpha, knife out in front of him, ready to slice the flesh of the wolf, but before he could even land his jump, his back hit the ground so hard his vision became blurry and bright yellow spots invaded his sight.

The fuzzy outline of what could only be Derek was hovering over him, hand on Stiles' chest.

Derek leaned in close to Stiles' face, his steady breath ticking Stiles' left cheek. "And here is the part where you'd be dead."

Then the moment was gone. Derek was up on his feet in a flash, leaning against the tree as Stiles just lay on the ground, breathing rather heavily from the impact of the fall, thinking that if this carries on, he may need to borrow Scott's inhaler. Not that he needed it anymore anyway. He got up and clenched the knife in his fist, his breathing becoming steadier each second.

"Not quite as easy as it looks, is it?" Derek remarked, clear amusement in his voice and Stiles noticed the faintest of a smile gather around his lips, but in a flash the scowl was back.

"No need to be such a frowny wolf Derek, come on, live a little, smile for once." Stiles encouraged, cocking his head to the side in a playful manner.

Derek made a huffing noise and looked at Stiles. "I haven't smiled for about ten years," he said nonchalantly, standing and waiting for Stiles to launch at him once again.

"Not even at a joke?" Stiles asked, inquisitive.

"Jokes aren't funny."

"Of course they're funny, they're jokes. They're meant to be fun..."

"Just try and stab me Stiles." Derek interjected, his tone irritant.

"As you wish, my lord," Stiles replied sarcastically, and ran for the alpha again.

No sooner than he started running, he was being grasped tightly and twisted around by Derek, his back pressing into the werewolf's chest and for a moment everything was still.

"This is where I'd kill you," Derek spoke calmly, "looks like you need to be a tad better at this." One of his arms was wrapped around Stiles' waist as the other was holding his head at an angle. One swift move and Stiles would be dead.

"You can move your hand thanks, I'd rather live if that's okay." Stiles managed to say, his voice straining slightly from the fear.

Derek released Stiles and the teen shuffled forward, gripping the knife tighter in his right hand.

He moved quickly, swinging his body round and catching Derek off guard as he saw the surprise fill his eyes, but he still wasn't fast enough. A hand closed around his arm and clenched it tight, making Stiles howl with pain.

"Better," Derek informed, looking completely unfazed, "again."

* * *

**Don't forget to review/favourite or whatever people do with these things!**

**I had a few reviews mentioning about my lack of knowledge on Americanizing things, just remember I am British, and if I slip up then sorry!**


	4. Chapter 4

**So here's the next chapter! Thank you for all of your positive feedback, it's been great and lovely to read :-) If you want to follow me and ask me things about NLMG, then my twitter is _countmeawake. _Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

CHAPTER 4

"Again," Derek said to Stiles from behind. He could feel Stiles' rapid breathing on his chest, inhaling and exhaling from the fear. Derek knew why, one small twist of the hand and this kid could be dead in a second.

He could feel the heat from the boy's body being absorbed by his own as they stood completely still against each other. His face was so close to Stiles' pale and exposed neck that he had an unexpected urge to reach forward and suck the small point where the pulse was strongest, just slightly, only to get a sense...a _taste _of the younger man he was holding in such a dangerous way.

Wait, what was he doing?

He released Stiles and pounced a few paces back, his back hitting the wall of his house as his breathing evened and he became calm once more.

"Derek I don't want to do this anymore, if you haven't noticed, my leg is hurting from when I nearly _died_ last night, and frankly you and your wolf strength isn't helping me heal," Stiles whined, "can we just stop and pick this up another time?"

The scowl was planted firmly on Derek's face yet again as the (_somewhat confusing_, Derek thought to himself) moment passed, and he nodded firmly. "I suppose," he started, looking away from the teenager and that damn neck of his, "the pack will be here any second now." Without bothering to invite Stiles in, he walked into his house and up the stairs to his bathroom, placing a hand on either side of the sink. He looked at himself in the mirror, gripping the sides of the sink so tightly his knuckles were beginning to turn white.

_What the hell was that, Derek? He's just a seventeen year old kid. It's _Stiles_ for fuck's sake. _

He filled his hands with water and splashed it over his face, composing himself before leaving the bathroom. _What the fuck was he feeling?_

_You're Derek Hale. You're a werewolf. You don't have feelings._ He repeated to himself over and over.

Yet the more he repeated, the more he didn't believe. The overwhelming urge to touch Stiles, the need to be closer, to feel the warmth generating from him...

_Fuck_.

Derek knew what this was. Perhaps it was the fact he hadn't had sex since High School? He cursed at himself quietly as all of this thoughts mashed together in to one. What was his body doing? He sat down on his bed and put his head in his hands.

Surely there's a way to overcome the thing. Having cheap sex with a girl should eradicate all feelings and this random sexual desire will go back to nil, right?

He figured this "thing" was just a sexual need. He hadn't been intimate with anyone in lord knows how long, so maybe his body was just pushing him to, and the heightened senses weren't making anything easier. Yeah, that must be it.

He knew that there are always downsides to being a werewolf, and he cussed at himself for not satisfying his body sooner. He'd just been busy, he guessed. Pushing all thoughts to the back of his mind, he walked out of his bedroom and down the stairs.

Stiles was sat on the sofa facing the unlit fire as Derek moved over to place himself next to the window, waiting patiently for the first sign of a car to arrive, and trying to distance himself away from the teenager. He could handle this. The needs go away soon enough; he just had to get through the worst parts. Whatever they were.

"You don't have a TV?" Stiles asked innocently, looking at the alpha who turned his head and frowned.

"No Stiles I don't," he began, "you know I think it perished in the fire that killed my entire family."

_Maybe if he hates me I'll stop feeling like this_.

Stiles' face dropped and he looked away, immediately making Derek almost regret his outburst.

_Damn._

"Sorry," he mumbled in the general direction of the teen, "this whole omega werewolf thing has me on edge."

"Hold the phone; did I just get an apology from Derek mother-fucking Hale?" Stiles asked, his face lighting up.

Derek let the smallest of a smile play around his mouth, composing himself a millisecond later.

But Stiles saw. "And was that a smile on the alpha werewolf's lips?" He punched the air with both fists, "man I am on _fire _today!"

"Enough," Derek replied, his face expressionless, "Jackson's here."

"Wait until I tell him I made you smile," Stiles said and got up to get the door, only to be blocked by Derek.

"You say one word. _one_ word, and I will kill you in your sleep."

He almost revelled in the fear etched upon Stiles' face, and he stepped to the left to let Stiles pass and open the door.

"You okay buddy?" He heard Jackson say to Stiles, who mumbled "yep, absolutely fine," and let Jackson in, closing the door behind him and following him to sit on the sofa.

Lydia turned up five minutes later, followed by Erica, Boyd and Isaac all at once, with Scott and Allison turning up last in his mother's car.

"Glad to see you could make it," Derek said to Allison as she sat down on the floor in front of the fire, which was now burning slowly as the light outside began to fade, "considering there's a murderer on the loose I thought your dad would be all hell-bent on keeping you indoors."

"Yeah well what can I say, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do," she replied, looking over at Lydia, "he thinks I'm out bowling with Lydia for the night."

"Right then, considering we're all here, time to speak about some new events that have come to light."

He stood up from the chair and walked over to the front of the room, turning round so he was facing everybody at the meeting. "Stiles was attacked by a few werewolves late last night on the way home from Scott's. We assume one died considering he was caught by your dad," he pointed to Allison, who remained silent, "so we definitely know there's one. We're not sure if he's working for, or with someone, but just be on the lookout."

"Wait, what?" Erica asked, leaning forward in her chair, "do we know what he...or they want?" She asked, and her perfectly shaped eyebrows rose in preparation for an answer.

Derek tensed, and shifted his eyes to look at Stiles, who ever so slightly shook his head. So slight in fact that Derek had not been a werewolf, and he was pretty sure he would not have seen the movement.

He was about to protest when Stiles piped up. "He didn't say what he wanted. I guess I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Derek's eyes moved slowly over each of the pack, taking in their reactions to Stiles' lie. They all seemed to believe him, and when no one spoke, he gave Stiles a final look and began to speak once more. "So," he started, and folded his arms across his chest, "you need to train. Hard. If this wolf is really working with others, then they're gonna be strong. You need to be ready."

"But why are they going to come back?" Boyd asked, "What do they want here?"

"We're not sure," Derek said, some truth in his words, "but I'll find out."

* * *

Stiles was the last to leave. He picked up the pizza boxes and threw them in the trash as Derek looked on, picking up stray glasses and carrying them into the kitchen and to the dish washer.

"You know, I could have told them," he began, thinking over the speech he had been rehearsing for the past ten minutes, "it would put them in less danger."

He saw Stiles sigh. "Yes and I know what you mean by 'put them in less danger' Derek. You mean that you would make sure they had nothing to do with whatever this is, resulting in only you being the one to get hurt."

Derek couldn't see the flaw in this idea. "That's exactly my point," he said clearly, "they're after me."

"We're a pack, Derek. We look after each other. You can't decide one minute you need us and then one minute you don't. Just because you're the alpha it doesn't mean you make all the decisions for us."

"Uh, yes it does, that's kind of the point to being an alpha."

"Not anymore it isn't, not when you're the one being hunted."

No more was said on the subject matter for a while. Derek didn't reply because he knew the idiot teenager was right. He'd been outwitted. He joined Stiles on the sofa and they sat in silence for a few minutes.

"You know, when my mom died I felt as if I had no one. I'd just sit alone in my room for days. I was only young, but that kind of stuff hits you hard whatever age you are."

Derek turned to Stiles who didn't return the gaze, he kept looking forward, unmoving, as if one slight movement would reduce him to tears.

"But you gotta know that there's always someone to talk to. You've got us. The pack. Your family. I just think you need to buck up your ideas and realize that we're not going anywhere Derek."

"I got you all into this mess, I don't want any of you killed," Derek admitted, frowning.

"That may be true but tough shit, you're stuck with us."

The following silence was sweet, a relief from the constant noise that echoed throughout his house just an hour earlier. The pack meeting had finished and Lydia had decided that she'd wanted to order pizza.

_"Do you really think they're gonna come out to this place?" She said to Scott who protested in going to pick the damn things up, "we're in the middle of nowhere and no offense Derek but this house isn't in top shape."_

_"None taken," Derek scowled, Lydia not noticing._

_"Fine, but I'm not going to get it, you and Jackson can."_

_Lydia exhaled in frustration, throwing both hands up in the air. "Fine! Jackson get your keys we're going to get pizza."_

_"I need a damn vacation," Jackson said, getting up from the sofa and retrieving his keys from his pocket._

_"Great! I'm thinking Spain?" Lydia interjected, and Derek could immediately see where this was going, yet he said nothing, amused by the teen couple._

_"No, I mean away from you," Jackson replied calmly, staring Lydia down, "away from your mouth."_

_Before they could start arguing more, Derek forcefully pushed them out of the house, handing them a twenty dollar bill and shutting the door behind them. _

His thoughts were interrupted by Stiles' voice. "I need to get going, it's late," he said, and stood up, putting his jacket on, "I'll see you soon."

Derek saw Stiles hesitate, just for a second, his mouth moving slightly as if he were about to say something, but decided against it. Stiles shrugged his shoulders and turned around, heading for the front door.

"Just think about what I said, yeah?" He asked, swivelling around on his heels to face Derek for the last time that night, "just remember that you're not the only one going through shit. We all have a past. We've all got stuff we need to sort out. It's just easier to come together and work it out than to stay on our own, there is a reason it's called a pack."

And with that he was gone. Derek lay down on the sofa and put his arms over his face, coating himself in darkness as his thoughts went wild. First, his frustration with that fucking boy. Telling him what to do? Not on his watch.

Then with pity. For both him and Stiles. Yes, Stiles was literally the most annoying person he'd ever met, but in a sense he was almost the most logical. He had a point. He shouldn't feel alone. He did have others. "Friends" was going a bit too far on the subject, but he had others to talk to.

Not that he would. He was Derek Hale, all round mysterious werewolf, and it would stay that way for as long as he lived.

He lay there for a while in silence, his own breathing reminding himself that time was ticking by slowly. He thought of his new werewolves, Isaac and his ability to emotionally overcome just about anything due to his shitty past, Boyd and his ability to be so strong he could give Derek a fair fight or few, and Erica, mentally brilliant and pretty fast, too.

But his mind couldn't seem to tear itself away from Stiles. He didn't know if it was a desire to help the guy become someone strong, or a desire for something else. And he certainly hoped it wasn't that, because Derek was a loner for life. In the romantic department anyway. He wasn't going to have another Kate Argent situation on his hands, that situation was so royally fucked up that it pretty much ruined any future relationship with any gender or species.

But Stiles...they had a lot more in common that he first thought. They'd both lost parents, they both seemed to be pretty lonely in their own ways, and they both always looked out for others, for their pack. This was proven by the fact Stiles had covered for Derek's ass. Right now they could all be in serious danger, yet Stiles was adamant not to tell.

Why? One simple "They're looking for Derek, don't help him," and it would be over. No one would surely go out of their way to help Derek Hale.

Apart from Stilinski. Always helping out, always thinking of others before himself. Always putting his friends' feelings before his.

Stiles was human. Just that. Not a werewolf or a skilled archer, just human. Yet he seemed to be the strongest of them all. The teen's dulcet tones were going round and round in his brain. _But you gotta know that there's always someone to talk to. You've got us._

He was right. He had the pack, he had a family. He needed to see Stiles. His body was pushing him to touch him.

Which is exactly why he drove himself to the club just outside of town.

The club was awash with barely-old-enough women as Derek sauntered through the door. It was a Friday night after all. He sat down on an empty bar stool at the corner of the bar, lifted a toned arm and ran it through his hair, trying to blot out any feelings that darted through his mind.

But the music was too loud. The talking around him was getting unbearable. What he needed to do was be alone and he immediately regretted coming here, cursing once again at himself for making yet another bad decision.

"Can I get you a drink?" The barmaid asked, and Derek looked up to study her face. Aside from the obvious gender difference to what his body supposedly craved right now, she was seemingly attractive. Her long blonde hair trailed down to the middle of her back, and fluttered ever so slightly as she breathed. Her blue eyes looked almost empty and cold, as if her job was slowly killing her.

Derek could think of many replies to her question, yet every one he thought of seemed wrong. He could either get drunk, go home and wallow in his own self pity, or fuck the brains out of this girl in order to attempt to quell whatever his body was telling him to quell.

"Whiskey," he replied, smiling a dazzling smile that seemed to trance the female, "neat."

"Coming right up!" She replied, flicking her hair over one shoulder and fluttering her long (and clearly fake) jet-black eyelashes as she practically skipped to the other end of the bar to follow through with his order.

An hour and seven whiskeys later, he had the blonde up against the club wall outside in a shitty alley. Her legs were wrapped around his waist as she kissed him lazily, along his jaw line and down to his neck, leaving little puckered red marks from where she sucked at the flesh with her lipstick covered lips. Derek was holding her tightly as he lifted his head back to expose his neck and let the girl do whatever she was doing.

She unwrapped her arms from around his neck and reached down to the space in between them to undo his belt and he let her willingly, grabbing her ass for support.

_She's not him, _his conscious beckoned.

Her hand was in his pants now.

_Don't do this, she's not Stiles_.

Her hand grasped his dick and he jolted. Hearing that fucking teenager's name in his own mind set him straight and her hand felt like fire. He pulled away and dropped her to the ground, composing himself.

Why the fuck was his body doing this? There was a perfectly willing girl right here and he couldn't get that kid out of his mind. He thought having sex with this girl could cure this stupid need inside himself. He thought that once he'd gone through with it, his weird cravings would subside.

But unfortunately his body didn't want to seem to comply.

"What the fuck?!" Her shrill voice invaded his thoughts as he was brought back to reality once more. He saw her readjust her skirt as he cocked his head to one side.

"Oh honey," he drawled, "you'll get over it," he smiled that dazzling smiled and did up his belt, watching her walk over to him as she slapped him hard in the face.

He could have easily stopped her, hell he knew it was coming. She needed to get it out, and he definitely needed that.

"I am not some pity fuck," she whispered, eyeing him up and down with a look of disgust on her face, "not even for lonely men like you."

With one last huff, she swivelled on her feet and walked away from him, back in to the bar.

Well, that did it. Derek could feel his pulse rate increase and the blood rush through his veins. He balled up his fists tight in a feeble attempt to stop the change.

It wasn't working. His eyes felt as if they were balls of fire as they changed into a deep shade of red unwillingly, and he closed them to prevent any people walking past from noticing. He could feel his newly-elongated nails dig into his flesh as he clenched his fists even tighter as his whole body started to shake.

_Fucking Stilinski_, he thought to himself, _why him?_

Upon hearing the teen's name in his mind, that one name repeating over, he stopped shaking. His body calmed and his pulse decreased to a usual rate as he returned to normal. He opened his eyes and checked the alley, and silently thanked whoever was up there watching him that no one had seen him practically freak out.

He needed to get home. No, he needed to leave this town forever. He was Derek Hale, the alpha werewolf for fuck's sake. He wasn't meant to feel these emotions, these _things_ for anyone. They were alien to him. Hell, he can't go through with fucking an attractive girl without his body wanting other things.

_We're a pack, Derek. We look after each other._

Fuck, he couldn't leave. He needed to stay strong for the pack. For whatever seemed to be chasing after him. Shit.

Derek Hale and emotions do not mix.

Derek Hale and _anybody _do not mix.

* * *

**So that's it! I've already written chapter 5, just need to read through it, change a few things and I'll upload it within the next week, I have my exam results coming out so I'm super nervous and can only seem to think about those! Don't forget to review and follow this and such :-) (Also sorry this chapter was longer than the others, I just had so much to write!)**


	5. Chapter 5

**So here's the next chapter! It's a lot longer than the other ones, I just had so much to write as you will see :) Thank you for your support on both the story and my results, I am pleased to tell you that I am now officially a University student studying History! So scary! Enjoy this chapter, let's just say it was tricky but rather fun to write it!**

* * *

CHAPTER 5

"Dad?" Stiles called as he walked in his front door, "you home?"

"In the kitchen!" He heard his father shout back and he followed the voice to find his dad huddled over a bunch of papers on the table.

"You okay?" Stiles asked, sitting down opposite and grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl.

"Stiles this is a police case I am not having my son involved," his dad replied, not bothering to look up. Stiles' eyes gazed over the pieces of paper littering the table. Mug shots of freaky-looking men, crime scene photos, and...

"Dad," Stiles began, reaching over and picking up a certain photo, "this body doesn't look like it's been recently killed."

"Coroner depicts the murder was over a year ago," his dad replied, forgetting his earlier words and pouring himself a drink, "the body was found the other day off an old country road just outside of town."

Well that was definitely something to tell Scott. Maybe they could go hunting for clues again. He could be like a shitty Sherlock Holmes. "Don't drink too much dad; you've got to be up in the morning for work," Stiles said, getting up from the chair, and leaving his twice-bitten the apple on the table, "I mean it."

He heard a mumbled "fine" and, satisfied with that answer, he walked up the stairs and to his bedroom, lying down on his bed and looking up at the ceiling. Well, the past 24 hours had certainly been hectic. He couldn't quite believe that this was all happening to him. He was Stiles, the goofy kid no one really cares about. The one that chased after Lydia for ten years. Yet here he was, home after a long training session and a heart to heart (ish) with a werewolf.

It worried him that all he could think about on the ride home was Derek. The way Derek wasn't angry when Stiles told him what was true. He just...sat there and took it.

A sudden urge to see the wolf entered Stiles' mind and he sat up in bed. What on earth was that? Why the sudden push? He tried to think about other things, about Lydia and how beautiful she looked at school today, or how he was going to overcome this whole "I can't fight for shit" thing that he needed to sort out. But his mind kept going back to the alpha, almost _begging _Stiles to think about him. He figured it must be the satisfaction that he finally broke through that wall of Derek's. He could see some emotion on the wolf's face today, hell he even made him _smile_. Just for a second, but it was there.

Stiles fell asleep fully clothed, laying on top of the covers with one subconscious thought running through his mind.

_I need to see Derek tomorrow._

* * *

Stiles slept like a baby, and boy did he need those hours sleep. For once for as long as he can remember, he was up before midday on a Saturday. He had a shower and got dressed in dark blue jeans and a grey jumper, finding himself alone in the house as he walked into the kitchen.

_Well there's no need to stay here then_.

He picked up his keys from the table and walked out to his jeep, getting in and switching the ignition on. He supposed he could drop by Derek's. His leg was feeling a little better today and Derek could check up on it, considering he had all the necessary tools. He couldn't exactly ask his dad to check his leg considering his dad had no idea wolves even existed, let alone the fact his son was nearly killed by a few. The road to the Hale household was quiet, so he managed to maintain a constant speed travelling there, arriving earlier than he had planned. He didn't know what he was going to say to Derek. "Hello, how are you, check my leg and let's dance around with knives?" Nothing in his head seemed right, but then again, this town wasn't exactly normal.

He knew Derek could hear his jeep pull up into the space outside his house and he knew he could hear Stiles walk up to the door. Should he knock? Just go straight in? He'd been here enough times but never without Derek not knowing beforehand. The door swung open and Derek leaned against the doorframe, dressed in a white tank top and black jeans.

"There you go with the tank tops again, do you even own a shirt?" Stiles asked, eyeing the werewolf up and down.

"And you're here, why?" Derek replied monotonously.

"Well..." Stiles began, lifting his hand up to rub the back of his neck a few times, "I'm here for a few things actually. First, boredom. Second, I was wondering if you could check my leg, and thirdly, more training?" His voice tailed off at the end as he looked up to notice Derek's expression hadn't changed, and he looked down at the floor again, taking a mental note to avoid all eye contact with this werewolf if he didn't want to end up pissing his pants with fear.

He fully expected the wolf to say no. To tell him to get back in his crappy jeep and get out of here as fast as he could before he'd rip off the teen's head.

"Sure," Derek said in a low voice, and stepped aside to let Stiles in who went and sat on the sofa in the sun-lit living room, putting his hands in his lap and looking around and trying to avoid eye contact with the wolf. "Well lie down then," Derek said, "and put your leg up on the sofa."

Stiles did as he was told, rather too willingly, and put his head back on the arm rest and closed his eyes. He felt the bandage from just below his knee being unwound, and it felt strangely hypnotic. He was weirdly calm. He felt Derek's fingers graze his flesh ever so slightly, touching the wound lightly to see if it had made any improvements. "Looks fine," Derek said, "healing good. I'll put another bandage on it just in case, but you're gonna be fine."

"Who knew a werewolf could sew," Stiles said, opening his eyes and focussing on Derek, whose jaw line tightened in response.

"I can do a lot of things you don't know about Stiles," he simply replied, sending a slight shiver down the teen's spine.

What the hell was happening? Why was he feeling like this? This wasn't right, surely. Oh shit, what kind of magic voodoo has been cast on him now? He wouldn't put it past this fucking town.

As soon as Derek had finished with the new bandage, Stiles shot up from the sofa and bounced up and down once, testing out his leg. "Seems fine," he said, leaning on it and pulling his jeans down to cover it, "we should train now."

"Whatever," Derek said, getting up and leading the way to the back garden, grabbing the knife from the kitchen side from where Stiles had left it yesterday. The werewolf was being strangely compliant. Maybe Stiles' words of marvellous wisdom yesterday finally made that wolf into the emotional man he was hiding. He wasn't exactly sure if that was a good thing or not, and was starting to regret yesterday. In fact, he was starting to regret today as well. He followed Derek out into the back garden and stopped a few feet from where he was stood. He noticed him look down at the knife, back up to Stiles, and back down to the knife again.

Before Stiles could even comprehend what was happening, he saw the knife soar through the air and, if Stiles hadn't have moved, it would have hit him square in the forehead. "Jesus, fuck!" Stiles shouted, his heart beating out of his chest, "what the hell have I done to you?!"

"You were meant to catch it," Derek replied, and Stiles noticed a slight look of amusement in his eyes.

"Can you at least fucking warn me first? I could have been killed!"

"Oh, don't be such a pussy, Stiles, come on. Pick up the knife and stab me."

"Can you at least give me a chance? I don't want to dance around each other for the next hour like we did yesterday." He picked up the dagger and weighed it in his hands, moving it from his left to his right.

"Then what's the point in doing this? You've got to learn to fight."

"Yeah, fight," Stiles said, crouching slightly to attack, "not tango."

He lunged forward at the wolf who stepped sideways to avoid the teen, but Stiles was one step ahead. He twisted round to the left a fraction before the alpha moved, so he was now stood right in front of him. However before he could lunge forward to finish the attack, Derek's hand reached out and grabbed a hold of Stiles', rendering the teen unable to move his arm.

"Nearly got me there," Derek said through his teeth, releasing Stiles as he could see him wince from the pain, "we'll try something different this time."

"What?" Stiles asked, moving back a few paces to gather distance between them.

"I'll go for you."

"Wait...hang on... what?" Stiles asked, baffled. "You're going to throw yourself at me?"

"Not throw, Stiles. I'm going to run at you, and you are going to dodge and attempt to stab me."

Stiles took one look at Derek and threw his head back and laughed. "You're kidding right? You're going to murder me! You've got to be kidding. Please be kidding."

Derek shook his head once. "You need to learn."

"How are you not afraid that I'll stab you?" Stiles asked, moving the dagger up to the sunlight to watch the light bounce off the blade, "this thing is pretty sharp."

"Let's just say I'm not particularly confident you'll stab me." That amused look in his eyes was back again, and Stiles noticed his lips curve slightly in the shape of a smile, but said nothing about it.

"Lovely to know someone has a bit of faith in me," Stiles remarked sarcastically, and changed his position to attack.

He didn't really know what to expect. He knew Derek was going to run and jump at him like some rabid dog on steroids, and he knew he wasn't going to win. He was just going to have to accept his fate. Derek took the run forward and jumped at Stiles, who twisted out of the way and faced Derek, in a split second bringing up the knife and lunging it just about anywhere. He heard Derek hiss and lash out as Stiles was thrown back against the tree, his back hitting the trunk, hard. He winced in pain and dropped the knife, his arms held close to his sides by the alpha that was looming over him.

"I cut you," Stiles said, staring directly into Derek's eyes, "didn't I?"

"You scraped my flesh with the top of the dagger, I've already healed."

"But I did it, didn't I? I'm getting better? At all of this fighting shit?"

Derek said nothing. Stiles saw his eyes roam over his own mouth and down to his neck. He felt his spine tingle slightly; a feeling that was becoming all too familiar yet still confused the heck out of him. What were they doing? More importantly, what was _Derek _doing? "Derek..." Stiles said quietly, his posture beginning to discomfort him as he was stood awkwardly. Derek's hands didn't loosen on Stiles' arms as he tried to move slightly. "Hey. Werewolf," He almost whimpered, a little more firmly and the alpha finally tore his eyes away from Stiles' neck and to his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I..." Derek didn't finish his sentence as he loosened his grip on Stiles' arms and took three paces back, "I don't know what's happening, I..."

Stiles saw him close his eyes for a second and swivel round on the balls of his feet, and heading towards the house with a quick pace. He didn't know what to do. His brain told him to run, get out of there, whatever wolf voodoo crap was going on, he did _not _want to be involved with it. He had enough to deal with already. But then somehow his body was telling him to push forward and follow the maniac into the house. He didn't know what the fuck was happening but once he saw Derek in the kitchen he felt both scared and relieved, as if his body calmed to the sight of the werewolf. A quick thought of _shit I am going to explode from all this crap_ jolted through his mind.

Derek turned around and Stiles was rooted to the spot whilst the wolf started at him for a full ten seconds. He opened his mouth to say something but thought against it.

"Derek," Stiles began, "I don't know what the fuck is happening but this isn't some soap opera so you're gonna have to come clean."

That did it. Derek ran forward and pinned the boy up against the wall, his hands planted firmly on Stiles' shoulders. "I have no fucking idea," Derek started, whispering and shaking his head frantically, "but whatever the fuck you're doing to me I want you to stop. I want you to stop right now."

"What the hell are you on about?" Stiles said, his eyes somehow drawn to the werewolf's mouth, which was open ever so slightly. He could feel Derek's breath, uneven and shallow on his nose, and it terrified him yet calmed him at the same time.

_He was fucked_.

"Whatever the fuck you're doing to me..." Derek repeated, his eyes focussed firmly on Stiles, "I want you to stop."

"Derek I am not doing anything I swear. You're kind of scaring me..."

Derek growled quietly and leaned forward, crashing his lips hard onto Stiles'. Stiles was surprised at the sudden attack, and didn't move for a millisecond, his eyes wide and confused.

But Derek's lips were strangely warm for someone so cold.

His mouth moulded with Derek's as he kissed back, closing his eyes and pushing his body forward to meet the older man's as he felt his arms slide around Stiles' waist and push him back harder towards the wall. The cold air crossed his lips as he felt the kiss break. Derek's lips reattached themselves to Stiles' body, but this time on his neck, making little nips just below the jaw line like a puppy, and Stiles grinned to himself.

"I need you to take off your shirt," Derek said into the crook of Stiles' neck making Stiles tremble with the man's breath running over his own skin, "now."

"Derek what the fuck is happenin..."

"I don't fucking know," Derek began and his lips found Stiles' once more, his tongue darting out to caress Stiles' lips, almost begging to be let inside. Stiles opened his mouth and their tongues clashed furiously and lazily, both craving dominance, eventually Derek winning. He felt Derek's hands move up from his hips and rest on either side of Stiles' neck, angling him so he could get a better position to invade Stiles' mouth with his, pushing his body even closer to the teen's as they kissed passionately.

"I don't fucking know," Derek said once more as Stiles broke for air, "but whatever is happening, I need it, and you do too. Take off your shirt."

"Shouldn't we move to..."

"Take off your shirt," Derek said with an assertive tone that aroused Stiles more than it should, "or I will rip it from your back."

"But this is my best sh..."

"Stiles."

Stiles did as he was told and, rather slowly, grabbed the ends of his shirt and pulled it over his head, dropping it on the floor beside him. Immediately Derek dominated his body once more and his hands were running all over Stiles' torso, from his waist up to his neck and back down again, settling on his hips as he pulled the teen in for another bruising kiss. He pulled away after a second and pulled his own shirt off over his head, dropping it on the floor next to Stiles'.

_Holy fuck,_ Stiles said, eyeing up the werewolf in front of him. He opened his mouth to speak but he was speechless. The man was _perfect_. Literally physically perfect. His torso was toned and firm as he ran his hands up the sides of the older male slowly, Derek gasping slightly as if Stiles' touch was hot like fire. His spine shivered as Derek grasped his arm and pulled him towards the stairs, letting go after realizing Stiles was following.

He'd never been in Derek's bedroom before. Hell, he'd never even been upstairs before. He felt weirdly naked and he wasn't sure if this was because of his lack of shirt, or his lack of Derek.

That was soon fixed as Derek turned around and his lips travelled down to Stiles' neck once more, sucking lightly on the place his pulse was strongest. Stiles felt his jeans become a lot tighter and he ever so slightly thrust forward to meet Derek's hips in a cheap attempt to satisfy himself as the hunger for this fucking man was out of control. He had no idea what was happening to him or his body right now but he knew that if he didn't satisfy this crave soon, he would go insane.

Derek thrust his own body forward to meet Stiles' hips in response and Stiles moaned out loud at the feeling, throwing his head back in pleasure as Derek moved his hands down frantically to grab a hold of Stiles' jeans.

"Bed," Derek managed to murmur as he half pulled Stiles over to the bed by his belt. This was some sort of carnal need that Derek needed to get rid of, and although Stiles felt a little cheap...

He wasn't exactly saying no.

He saw Derek's eyes, full of lust as they travelled over Stiles' now near-naked body, his eyes stopping at the bulge in the teen's underwear. He reached down and felt through the white boxer briefs, gripping gently as Stiles groaned and moved his hips upwards, meeting Derek's touch, aching for more. Derek's hand moved up past Stiles' dick and up to his naked torso, all the while Derek moving ever slowly on top of Stiles as the teen lay as still as night, anxious for what was to come. The wolf moved his hands to rest on Stiles' waist as he leant down and bit the skin, causing Stiles pain in the most pleasurable way possible, and he ached for more as he arched his hips up to meet Derek's, smiling as he heard Derek's throaty growl and the feel of a thrust back.

"Derek," Stiles said, lifting his head and shuffling slightly, "please."

Derek looked up and at Stiles, cocking his head to the side slightly and opened his mouth to speak. "Please what?" he asked, almost whispering, and Stiles wanted to hit him as he knew full well the idiot wolf was just playing with him. He rolled his eyes and shifted his hips slightly and Derek growled once again. His blood felt on fire, singing for more, for this man's touch all over his body. "More," he said simply, and he saw the fire ignite in Derek's eyes as Derek leant down to cover Stiles' mouth with his, lazily kissing his mouth, then jaw line, then torso, dragging his teeth across Stiles' chest which sent the teen into a frenzy. "Derek," Stiles almost pleaded, unable to move from the pleasure.

Derek reached down and undid his belt, shifting his hips to move out of his jeans and throwing them with force across the bedroom so they hit the door. Not that Stiles noticed, he was too busy looking at what had once been hidden underneath the pants.

_Jesus fuck he's big everywhere_, Stiles thought, his lust growing by the second as he reached down between them and took of his own underwear. They were now both fully naked as Derek's mouth started to explore his own once more, their tongues crashing together for dominance forcefully.

"On your knees," Derek said. This wasn't going to be intimate or slow. This was the carnal need he'd been thinking about earlier. Derek needed this, he needed to fuck someone, he could sense that. Perhaps he was right about this "wolves in heat" thing. Perhaps they gave off some sort of pheromone that attracts suitable sex partners or something, and that sex partner just happened to be him. He did as he was told and got up on his knees, suddenly feeling extremely exposed and embarrassed. He felt his face flush red and hot, and bowed his head towards the bed in a feeble attempt to not let Derek see his humiliation. "Fuck," he heard Derek say, and the growl that erupted from the back of Derek's throat made Stiles harder than he thought possible. He reached down to grasp his own dick, stroking it slowly in an effort to relieve some of this frustration that he was about to explode from.

"No," Derek said, "stop."

"But..." Stiles began, taking his hand away and putting it back on the bed, "Derek, I need..."

"Me," Derek finished.

Stiles felt him move so he was leaning over a kneeling Stiles. Derek held out two fingers to Stiles and Stiles took them in his mouth willingly, letting his tongue roam over the two digits as they remained still in his mouth. He could feel Derek's dick on his back, twitching slightly at the arousal, making his lust for the wolf soar sky high. He felt Derek remove the fingers from his mouth and shift slightly so that he was kneeling upright.

As soon he felt the first finger enter his ass, he arched his back in pure pleasure, shifting his hips slightly in an attempt to get the most out of what Derek was giving him. "No moving," Derek said, moving his finger in and out slowly. He hooked his finger upwards, hitting Stiles' sweet spot and Stiles moaned out loud, his groan echoing off the four walls as Derek inserted another finger and scissoring them both, stretching out the teen for when he finally gave in to his own lust.

"Please," the strangled groan came from Stiles pleadingly, knowing that Derek knew what he meant, "please," he said again as his eyes rolled back in pleasure.

"Preparing you," Derek replied, his voice dripping with desire of his own as he thrust his fingers out a few more times before pulling them out completely.

"Derek," Stiles said, his voice weak, "I've never done this before."

Derek ignored his words as he got himself ready, posing himself at the teen's entrance. Stiles felt Derek's erection rub up against him, and the arousal was pure agony. "Please," Stiles said for the fiftieth time, moving his left hand to rub his own dick, pumping himself frantically as he couldn't take the lustful pain anymore. He felt Derek's hand brush up against his own and it felt like fire, sending tingles all the way through his body, and as Derek slowly pushed in, pausing half way to let the teen adjust, those tingles mixed with the pleasurable pain nearly made Stiles come there and then.

"Fuck," he heard Derek moan as he pushed in slightly further, causing a painful burn and a groan to erupt from Stiles. Once Derek was all the way in he paused for a second, letting the teen adjust more before he slowly pulled out and slammed back in. Stiles was in heaven. Both pain and pleasure flowed through him, flames running through his bloodstream as Derek thrust in and out, hard and fast. He tried to push his hips back to gain more friction but Derek had his hips held tight, no doubt leaving bruises. He felt pre-come slowly escape from his throbbing dick as he longed to reach down and stroke himself, fully knowing that Derek would bat away his hand if he did so. He was right, he needed _Derek_, not himself. This carnal need was down to _Derek_.

Fucking Derek.

His thoughts were a jumbled mess and soon his mind was completely blank as Derek moved his hips to thrust in from a slightly different angle, hitting Stiles' pleasurable spot causing him to moan aloud.

"Derek, I'm...I'm..."

He came fiercely, eyes rolling into his head as a vortex of pleasure exploded in his body, sending him over the edge in a wave of pure ecstasy. He felt Derek's thrusts increase and he knew the werewolf must be near the edge of his own orgasm. He rode out the waves of his own as Derek came deep inside him, thrusting a few more times before halting to a stop, his hands still firmly gripped on Stiles' hips.

Stiles' heart was beating out of his chest, and his breathing was shallow as he collapsed face first down onto the bed into one of Derek's pillows. He didn't care he was fully naked in front of the wolf, hell he'd just fucked him for Christ's sake.

He felt the bed shift and covers being pulled over him, the warmth comforting. He turned around onto his back and placed his hands behind his head, ignoring the sticky feeling inside of him. He'd use Derek's shower later, he just wanted to ride this feeling for a little longer. They said nothing, lying side by side under the covers for just a while, both staring at the same damp spot on the ceiling, waiting for the other to say something.

Stiles turned his head sleepily towards the alpha, who mimicked his move.

"What the fuck just happened?" He asked Derek quietly.

"I have no fucking idea," the wolf replied, tearing his eyes away from Stiles to look at that damp spot on the ceiling once more.

* * *

**So there it is! Please bear in mind that this is literally the first time I have written smut, so I am sorry if I've written anything wrong haha! Sorry for the later update as well, I've been super busy with all of this University stuff! Next chapter should be up soon :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Here's the new chapter, so soon after the next one! I've written quite a lot in advance now, so regular updates will commence unless something happens to prevent me from updating, but I highly doubt it. Thank you for all your positive reviews, and thank you for the positive feedback on my first smut, and also thank you for congratulating me and my results! It really means a lot :)**

**Just a reminder: Jackson is human. This fic was started before the (amazing) ending to season 2, and I didn't want Jackson as the kanima then, and I don't want him as the kanima now. He's human for now :)**

* * *

CHAPTER 6

"I need to shower."

It had been about a half hour since..._the incident_...and Derek had been slowly drifting off to a silent slumber, from both exhaustion and the calm silence that echoed throughout the room.

"Okay," Derek started, opening his eyes and turning to face the teen, "Shower is second door on the left." He turned away to face the ceiling once more, keeping still as Stiles shifted from the bed and scurried out of the door. Derek almost laughed to himself as the teenager seemed almost too shy to move, even though they had just had sex less than an hour ago.

Stiles disappeared from the room and that stupid feeling was back. Derek's heart felt as if it were both dropping and fluttering at the same time, as if he felt like he missed that idiot Stilinski and it worried him. It worried him greatly. What the hell was his body trying to tell him? He squinted his eyes shut and rubbed them with his hands, trying to waken himself up so he could think straight.

"You feel that too?" He heard a small voice almost whisper from the doorway, and his eyes shot open to notice Stiles with a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Yeah," Derek replied, "I have no idea what it is, but yeah."

"What in hell have you done to me," Stiles replied, rolling his eyes and turning around, his bare back facing a rather aware Derek, "but whatever it is, it can wait. I need to shower."

He left Derek alone in the bedroom, pondering his thoughts, and what the hell was going on. He didn't ever remember reading anything about it, and his parents or his uncle never said anything about it...was it some sort of animal instinct? He couldn't have been "in heat", because his body rejected that tramp he tried to fuck at the bar...whatever this bond was between him and Stiles, it scared him.

And Derek Hale never gets scared.

* * *

Scott called round later that day to talk to Derek about the werewolf situation and the state of the pack. Derek opened the door and immediately Scott was sniffing like an overexcited puppy, roaming about the living room and towards the stairs with an eager look in his eye.

"Scott, what the fuck," Derek remarked, raising his eyebrows at the moron, "what are you trying to do?"

"Was Stiles here?"

Derek went deathly still as he watched Scott's face fill with judgement. He let out a small laugh. "Of course he was you little twit, you saw him here yesterday."

"Yeah but...the scent is new, I...never mind," Scott replied, shaking his head, "must be the fact we're all on alert. Senses heightened more and all that."

"Yeah," Derek said, letting out a small breath he didn't know he'd been holding, "must be that." He followed Scott into the living room and the both sat down on the sofa.

"So," Scott said, turning to face his alpha, "where do we begin?"

Derek ran a hand through his hair and inhaled, trying to think of an easy way to unload this all on to Scott. Fuck it, he was just going to have to come out with it.

"I need you to help me train Isaac, Boyd and Erica. They're not strong enough yet, and I can't handle them all on my own because I've got Stiles to train and..."

"Wait, what? You're training Stiles?"

_Crap_.

"Yes, he needs to be trained so I am training him."

"To do what?"

"Wield a knife; teach him some skills, that kind of thing."

"Why can't I do it?"

"Oh I don't know," Derek began, "perhaps because _I'm _the strongest one in this pack? And he's the weakest? See the link there?"

Scott said nothing and Derek saw his jaw tighten. He clearly wasn't happy with this arrangement but he said nothing anyway. "So why do you need me to help with the other betas if you're so strong?" Scott mocked, and Derek scowled in response, amusing himself slightly as he saw Scott recoil.

"Because I can't handle two thousand things at once, McCall, I may be an alpha but I am not magic."

"So I'd be helping you out?"

"...Yes."

"I'd be like, your right hand man? As in, leading the betas with you? Like a beta-alpha?"

Derek sighed at Scott's sudden happiness and utter stupidity. "I guess so," he remarked, "but remember who is in charge here."

Scott said nothing as he reclined on the sofa, clearly taking in this new power he had a hold of, and Derek almost regretted giving him this new title.

They discussed tactics, where Scott would take the three betas (they decided on the woods out back of the Hale household, somewhere where Derek could hear them train so they wouldn't be out of danger, yet so out of the way that the town had no idea what was going on), who would train where and who with. They figured that Allison and Jackson could give Lydia a few lessons in archery and all that crazy dagger stuff Allison does, and agility and tactics that Jackson is well known for, and Erica could give them a few lessons in fighting and the moves themselves.

This was really happening. Derek could see there was a threat on the horizon. He could see that whatever this thing was, it was willing to destroy a normal human being, so lord knows what it would do to werewolves that stood in its way.

Its way to him.

The fact that he had people trying to kill him wasn't an entirely new feeling. But the idea that his pack may get hurt in the process worried him, and he needed to train them up so they at least had a good fighting chance.

"What about Stiles?" Scott said, taking a bite of the pizza he went out to get an hour ago, "are you gonna carry on teaching him?"

The mention of his name brought that empty, longing feel back to Derek and it hit him like a ton of bricks. The air gushed out of his lungs as he visibly stiffened at the thought of that idiot kid, and Scott's face turned to a look of worry.

"Are you okay?" He asked, reaching out to touch Derek but just stopping short of his arm, retracting his own realizing that touching the alpha was a stupid mistake to make.

Derek soon composed himself and planted a scowl on his face. "Fine," he replied, "just the thought of teaching that kid things make me want to hurl, you know I can't stand him."

Scott laughed and nodded. "Don't be so mean, he's my best friend."

_He believes me, thank god_, Derek replied.

He wanted to believe himself. He wanted to think that teenager was the most idiot person on this entire planet. The most annoying man he'd ever seen. But his body was telling him otherwise. The longing was awful, a slow burn coursing through his body whenever Stiles entered his mind.

They ate the pizza and talked about Jackson and Lydia, and Erica and Boyd.

_"Are you kidding me? Erica and Boyd are SO going to get together, watch it happen! The way he looks at her could give me and Allison a run for our money."_

_"Scott, for one, I am not gossiping like some fourteen year old girl with you. Two, Erica doesn't like Boyd, she could do so much better, have you seen the rack on that? It's surprising she's not had every guy in town, why just settle for one?"_

_"Watch this space Derek, watch this space."_

"Well I think I am done here, I'll see you tomorrow," Scott said, waving goodbye and leaving Derek alone once more.

He went to make himself a drink (_preferably vodka_, he thought, but when he opened the cupboard to retrieve some there wasn't any), of water and returned to the living room to find his phone buzzing on the table. He picked it up without bothering to look at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Did you feel it again? That weird thing? Derek what the fuck is happening because I don't like this at all and if you're behind it then I want you to stop okay I've got enough shit to deal with like being nearly killed how about that?"

"I don't know," Derek replied truthfully, "but it's fucking annoying."

"You're telling me. So what do we do? Has this ever happened to you before?"

Derek noticed the change in his voice, from worried to almost desperate. The little quiver at the end of Stiles' sentence made Derek ache with his own worry and he didn't know why. His body wanted to soothe this teenager, to be soothed itself, to get rid of this aching inside him that longed for company. But not just any company. _His _company.

"No this has never happened to me before and I don't know anyone who it's happened to. This is entirely new for me just like it is for you, remember that. I have no idea what it is," he said, his voice strangled, "but it's worrying."

"Derek..." Derek could sense the hesitation in this teenager's voice and he had a feeling he knew what was coming, "this feeling inside is physically throbbing and I don't think I can take it anym..."

"I'll be right over."

He dropped his water and grabbed his keys, throwing his phone on the sofa as he sped out of his house and down to his car.

He didn't really remember the drive over. His mind was completely blank, other than Stiles' name rolling over and over in his head like a wheel, crushing all thoughts of anything else out the way to make room for him and him only. He had no idea what was going on. And he didn't like it. But he needed it.

He needed Stiles.

He pulled up a few blocks from the Stilinski house and ran the rest of the way, not knowing if Stiles' dad would be home. He saw no car in the driveway other than the shitty jeep, so he grabbed a hold of the piping on the side of the house and shuffled himself up and onto the roof just outside of Stiles' window. He noticed the window was open ajar and he positioned his fingers under so he could push the window up and climb in, closing it behind him.

"Derek," he heard from behind him and he whipped round, seeing Stiles' pupils dilated in want. In _need_.

"I don't know what's happening Stiles I really don't. And I hate feeling like this, like a shitty thirteen year old with his first crush. What my body needs now is clearly you, so come here please."

Stiles clearly felt the same, as he almost sprinted towards the alpha and closed the gap between them, crushing his lips onto Derek's roughly and lazily. Derek felt Stiles' warm hands reach under his shirt and run up his torso, sending a shiver down the wolf's spine as he broke the contact and reached down to nip lightly at Stiles' neck, his pleasure coming from hearing Stiles' moans of desire and pure lust. Their shirts were gone almost immediately as Stiles, without breaking contact, pulled them over to his bed and pulled Derek down on to him, reaching between them to undo Derek's pants with shaky fingers.

"Does it feel like this weird thirst inside you is getting quenched?" Stiles asked, letting go of the wolf's pants and looking up directly into his eyes.

Derek nodded slightly. "Don't talk," He replied, crushing his mouth to Stiles' once more in a passionate and fiery kiss. The lust inside both of them was too strong however and they were both naked in seconds, Stiles up once more on his knees waiting to be filled by the alpha.

"No wait," Derek said pausing, "I want to try something else."

He lay down on Stiles' bed and pulled Stiles to him, who knew immediately what was going to happen. Stiles positioned himself just above Derek's dick, reaching down and rubbing slowly, hoping Derek's pre-come would be enough lubrication for the both of them.

"Stiles just fucking do it I'm about to explode. Fuck," Derek said harshly, and Stiles almost smiled at his need.

"Your words Derek, they arouse me so," Stiles replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes at the alpha that was getting clearly frustrated. Derek watched as the younger male above him slowly sat down as Derek entered him, and almost cried out with desire as he saw Stiles had paused slightly and Derek knew he was adjusting himself to his dick yet he wanted to do nothing more than thrust upwards and take him completely. He sat up, the teen still in his lap as he moved forever downwards at such a slow pace, finally coming to a stop as Derek was in him completely.

"Holy mother of..." Stiles said, moving himself up and crashing himself down once more.

"Too slow," Derek replied, flipping them over so Stiles was on his back on the bed, Derek thrusting hard and fast in and out from Stiles, who's moans were echoing from the walls and turning on Derek even more than he thought possible. He felt as if he wanted to change, shift into wolf form, the frustration surging through him stronger than ever felt before as he relieved his need in this teenager, yet the weird thought of scaring Stiles stopped him. Now he was shaking purely from the carnal pleasure of fucking Stiles. His moans of bliss seemed to please Stiles as Stiles reached down to stroke himself furiously, his back arching to give Derek a better angle to hit his sweet spot over and over, causing cries to erupt from the teenager as he came violently on his own stomach. Derek came soon after, deep into the teenager as a tidal wave of pleasure washed over him and continued to ride through his veins as he rode out the last few thrusts, collapsing on the teen's front a second later and panting like a dog as exhaustion quickly burst through him.

"That was..." Derek began, unable to finish his sentence due to his shallow breathing. The tips of his fingers were still tingling from pleasure and he focussed on that feeling and that feeling only, giving himself to the pure satisfaction that ran through his veins, making his skin feel sensitive all over.

"Fulfilling?" Stiles whispered to the wolf, and Derek felt the teen's hands run over his body once more, sending another wave of pleasure through his insides.

"Satisfying," he replied, reaching down and nipping at Stiles' neck where the pulse was strongest, his brain's seemingly favourite place on Stiles' body. He smiled slightly against Stiles' skin as he heard the guy inhale sharply at the feeling, "very."

Derek eventually rolled off Stiles and lay down on his bed, pulling the covers over his naked body and closing his eyes, drifting off silently and slowly as he felt the teen snuggle up beside him, and rest his cold feet on Derek's leg, jolting him to some extent. He opened one eye as he watched Stiles move slowly and rest his head on the alpha's chest, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent.

"Your feet are freezing," Derek remarked, closing his eyes once more and finally giving in to his exhaustion.

"I know," Stiles replied sleepily, "you're warm."

* * *

**So there it is! Finally some fluff for you all, I've got to say that I enjoy writing fluff a lot. New chapter up soon! Don't forget to review and such :) If you want spoilers and stuff, follow me on twitter (countmeawake) or tumblr (stilinskgay) and I am sure I can give you something :) Thank you!**


	7. Chapter 7

**So, considering I have now actually finished writing Never Let Me Go, the updates will probably be daily, or perhaps once every two or three days. I've got a lot of University stuff to sort out and this week is pretty busy so don't hold me to that! Thank you so much for all your support and words of encouragement, they mean a lot! I think I'm going to write a Hobrien fic, a one shot in time for Dylan's birthday, let's see how it goes! Thank you again!**

* * *

CHAPTER 7

His feet were cold again, which only meant one thing. Stiles opened his eyes and found himself under his covers, but more importantly, he was alone. His mind immediately raced back to last night, and Derek, and the _pleasure_ that had ran through Stiles. He shivered slightly as he made his way to the mirror, checking out his neck which throbbed slightly. Faint marks from where Derek had been sucking at his pulse had appeared from his jaw line to his neck.

_Crap, how am I mean to explain this to the rest of the group_? Fucking Derek and this stupid need of his. Shit.

He got dressed in a tshirt and jeans, pulling on an overly large sweater that just about covered most of the marks on his neck, and he went back over to his bed to pick up his phone.

A note on the bed side table was stood up against his alarm clock, and Stiles reached down to pick up and read it.

_Stiles, had to leave because your Dad came home. Drop by the house after school today and we'll train more. You're not that bad company after all. Derek._

He folded up the note and stuck it under his mattress, not wanting to throw it away, wanting to keep it secret from his dad. He felt almost scandalous. He had no idea what was going on with both himself and Derek, but somehow it felt..._right_. He'd tested the wolf last night, cuddling him and resting his feet on the other's legs...and Derek didn't pull away. So whatever this was...it wasn't just a need for sex. It was a need for something else entirely. And Derek had chosen him.

Sure, maybe not consciously, but certainly subconsciously. It was as if there was a rope between them, some sort of unbreakable rope that kept bringing the two people back to each other. And Stiles didn't mind. He didn't mind one bit. He grabbed his bag and left for school, giving his dad a small wave on the way out.

Mondays were always the worst at school. Everyone was down and miserable, moping around the corridors and slamming their locker doors shut in a small attempt to rid themselves of the rage of going back to school after the weekend. Stiles ignored the miserable feeling and after picking Scott up, parked up outside of school and switched the engine off, taking note of Scott's sudden sniffing.

"I can smell Derek on you," Scott said, leaning in and sniffing Stiles' neck.

"Woah there dog, ease up, sit!" Stiles replied, backing off and holding out both hands to push Scott away.

"I can smell him. Why? What have you two been doing?"

Stiles had to think of something quick. He didn't think "I've been fucking your alpha for lord knows why" seemed to suffice. "We've been training together recently. I'm weak apparently," Stiles said, rolling up his right sleeve and flexing his arm muscles, "but I don't really see why."

Scott rolled his eyes and leaned back into his seat, laughing at Stiles rather loudly.

"Alright no need to mock me," Stiles replied, getting out of his jeep and slamming the door.

"I wasn't! You're being silly."

Stiles made a "pschh" noise and they walked into school together, Stiles notably happier than he had been in ages.

* * *

The day was going a lot slower than usual, even for a Monday.

The pack (minus Derek) sat down at a table during lunch to chat about what Scott and Derek had spoken about the night before.

"So Isaac," Scott began, taking a bite of his apple, "you and me are gonna train out the back of mine tonight, mom says it's okay considering she's at work anyway," he looked over at Erica who was twiddling a bit of hair around her finger, looking rather bored, "Erica, you're going to take Lydia and Allison to the field near the church and teach them some skills in fighting, Allison make sure to bring your bow, and Boyd you can take Stiles and teach..."

"He can't!" Stiles interjected, making the entire table jump, "I mean, I'm busy tonight."

Scott looked at him, and looked all around the table, and finally back at the teen. "But all of your friends are here."

"Thank you for your words of support, _best friend_, but...well Derek is training me."

He saw the looks of judgement from the wolves and humans around the table and quickly added "I don't want to train with him but ugh, you know what that fucking wolf is like, he's as ignorant as shit. If I say no he will probably rip my throat out and then some."

Everyone around the table seemed to nod and agree, except Scott. He saw the wary look in his eye, as if he was piecing a puzzle together in his mind.

Stiles counted in his mind. _5...4...3...2...1..._

He heard the gasp from Scott and Stiles leapt up from the table. "Scott I need to speak to you it's about our chemistry assignment," Stiles almost shouted and grabbed Scott by the collar. He hot footed it out of the lunch hall and down to an empty classroom as Scott shuffled behind him, almost desperate to stop and talk about it.

Once the door was closed to one of the History rooms, Stiles held out his hands. "It's not what it seems..."

"You're seeing Derek?! I knew the training wasn't just that! What are you doing? Why? Is he forcing you? Stiles please tell me."

"No he's not forcing me! It's completely consensual...it's really difficult to explain Scott and I need you to keep it quiet okay. Don't even tell Allison."

"Oh man I'm sorry I can't promise anyt..."

"Scott!" Stiles shouted, making Scott jump about two feet in the air, "Please. If I knew what this was I would have told you and the pack straight away, I just...I need time to figure out what exactly I am doing."

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Well you're fucking Derek. Right?"

Stiles looked at his best friend and sighed, wanting to throw his bag across the room in some kind of shit fit of rage. "It's more than that Scott, I...I don't know. And it's scaring me."

He saw Scott stare at him for a second, his face clear of any emotion. Stiles remained calm. He could feel the longing for the wolf deep inside his heart start to surface, and suddenly the room felt very restricted and small, he needed to get out of there. A few more hours and he'd be with Derek anyway.

"Okay," Scott said, "I won't ask questions. Or tell anyone. But you promise me that when you figure out what this all is, you tell me? Because I am so confused,"

"If you think you're confused," Stiles said, opening the door and walking into the corridor, "how do you think I feel?"

* * *

The bell signalling the end of school finally rang, and luckily Stiles had managed to stay out of trouble enough to not get a detention from his oh-so-favourite teacher Mr. Harris. He started up his jeep and switched the radio on to begin his journey to the Hale household, thanking both himself and the school silently for the fact he didn't have any homework to be handed in for tomorrow.

His whole body ached, physically and mentally. So much was happening and he just wanted to sleep for a week and forget about it all. A part of him wanted to forget this whole thing with Derek, and this whole thing with the werewolves, he just wanted to get back to normal, and get straight As and go to college like a normal human should.

Fucking werewolves.

He reached Derek's in quick time and parked his jeep just outside of the house, getting out and going to knock on the door. Before he could knock, it swung open and a pair of strong arms wound around the teen's waist and pulled him inside, shoving him up against the wall.

"Hi," Stiles said, freeing an arm from the alpha's grip and waving like an innocent kid. Derek said nothing as he leant forward and captured Stiles' lips with his own, nibbling at the bottom lip which resulted in Stiles moaning in pleasure, causing Derek to nibble a little harder. "Derek I am not having sex with you, I am still exhausted from yesterday," he said, breaking away and looking into the werewolf's eyes, thankful there was only about an inch height difference between them.

"I don't want sex," Derek said, shaking his head and returning the gaze, "not today."

"Then why am I here?" Stiles asked, very conscious that Derek had not yet let go of him, and his back was still firmly pressed against the wall.

"Training of course, why else would I want you here?" He replied, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Stiles laughed and raised his eyebrows at Derek's obvious joke, "I can think of a few more things you would want me for here than just training."

Derek smiled slightly and took two paces back from Stiles, releasing him so he could step away from the wall. "Believe it or not Stiles, whatever this...thing is between us, isn't just sex."

"I know," Stiles replied quietly, looking down at the floor, a wash of embarrassment slowly causing his face to flush, "I can feel it all too, you know."

There was a silence between them as Stiles remained looking at the floor, shifting his feet slightly as he could feel Derek's eyes on him.

"You're just here to train," Derek began, turning towards the back door, "plus. I just wanted to see you. That's all."

"Well that's acceptable I guess, I am a wonderful human being," Stiles replied, looking up at Derek who scowled, causing Stiles to laugh once more.

"And you're also a weak human being. Come on, out to the back garden."

Stiles followed Derek out back, picking up the knife on the way out and closing the door behind him. "Are we doing what we did the other day? You jumping at me like rabid dog?"

"Yep," Derek replied, clearly ignoring the cocky comment from Stiles, "it seemed to help you train better."

"I don't want to stab you," Stiles replied, "the last time I did, we kind of ended up having sex and I think I am too exhausted for that kind of a work out today."

"Just hold up the knife Stiles," Derek retorted, amusement in his voice, and he crouched to jump at the teen. Stiles took the few seconds before he reacted to take in the man standing across him. He was wearing a white tank top (does he even wear anything else?) and a pair of track pants low riding on his hips. He looked up and noticed the slight sheen of sweat across the alpha's face, and Stiles had been wondering if Derek had been working out before he arrived. Before he could finish his thought he noticed Derek jumping through the air and landing an inch away from Stiles' face, causing Stiles to go into attack mode. He lunged the knife forward and swivelled on his feet slightly to avoid being caught by Derek, successfully dodging the grasp of the older man.

Yet once again, Derek was just that little bit faster. He used the opportunity to swing himself round the back of Stiles and grab a hold of the hand the knife was being held by, twisting it and causing Stiles to yelp in pain. Derek was now behind him and the pain ceased, his hands being held together behind his back as Derek's body pressed into his.

"I win, yet again," Derek whispered into Stiles' ear, causing that familiar shiver to travel down Stiles' spine once more, "you really need to work on your skills."

He felt the alpha shift behind him and lean down to plant a kiss on the part of Stiles' neck where the pulse was strongest, leaving little butterfly kisses up to Stiles' ear, where Derek lightly nibbled on the lobe.

Stiles wanted to both kiss and laugh at this guy. What the hell was happening to Derek? He hadn't seen him smile in all the time he'd known him, and now Derek was kissing his neck. Hell, he'd seen the wolf smile! More than once!

"What is happening to you?" Stiles said quietly, shivering again as he felt Derek's hot breath against his ear.

"I don't know," Derek replied, moving a hand round to Stiles' front to (if possible) push their bodies closer together, "but I'm accepting it and so should you."

"I was never denying it," Stiles replied, and carried on letting the werewolf do his thing.

* * *

"So are we just..." Stiles began as they sat side by side on the sofa, watching the fire crackle and blaze, its wisps of smoke slowly disappearing the further up in the fireplace.

"Accepting it?" Derek replied, turning his head to face the teen, "I guess so. I mean every time I try to fight it I end up needing you, so why bother? You're not that bad company after all, Stilinski."

Stiles smiled and rested his hands on his lap. "Pity I can't say the same about you," he said to Derek, who growled in response. Stiles laughed and turned his head back to the fire, enjoying the silence between them.

They'd shared a Chinese takeaway (Stiles went out and got it of course, and Derek paid for it, Stiles made him even though Derek was reluctant), and they spoke about the pack.

"So no one told me that Scott is kind of your right hand man now," Stiles said to Derek as he'd just finished a mouthful of noodles, "I only found out today at lunch."

"It's not really any of your business," Derek replied, gathering up the boxes to put in the trash "you're just a mere human."

"And yet you still can't get enough of me, can you?" Stiles replied, grinning widely.

He could tell Derek was bargaining whether to either kiss him or punch him, so he helped tidy up in the hope it wouldn't be the latter. "So are we like...together...now?" Stiles asked, avoiding eye contact, "because this is still really confusing to me."

"I guess so," Derek replied, "I guess we've both accepted the fact that whatever happening is happening, so...I guess so."

"Right, okay then," Stiles replied, looking down at the floor, "good. Now we have to tell the pack."

"The pack can wait," Derek said, "it's none of their concern. They'd just be confused."

"Tell me about it," Stiles replied, rolling his eyes and following the alpha out into the kitchen to dispose of the cartons.

They finished up their...date? Chat? Whatever this was and Stiles waved Derek goodbye before attempting to open the door, only for it to be closed again by a hand appearing from behind him.

"We've not been intimate today Stiles but that certainly doesn't mean you can leave without leaving me a little something," Derek said into his ear. Stiles turned around and looked at Derek for a second before leaning in and kissing him full on and harshly, their teeth clashing together but no one caring. The kiss was intense, and Stiles' hands were all over Derek's body, underneath his tank top and just above the wolf's track pants, not going any lower and causing a growl to erupt from the other man. It was _him _this time that fought and won for dominance as their tongues clashed together, and Stiles silently praised himself that he had the upper hand, even if it was just this once. He could feel himself getting hard and, before he lost himself in the moment completely, he broke away to stare into Derek's eyes. "You growl a lot when you're horny," Stiles remarked, nibbling on his own lip.

"You moan a lot when we're fucking," Derek replied leaning in and licking Stiles' neck.

Stiles laughed and left without saying goodbye, getting into his jeep and driving off into the night.

It was dark out, and Stiles cursed at himself for staying out so late. Even though it had now been a few days since his run in with the lovely werewolves, the dark made him slightly afraid of what else would suddenly appear from nowhere.

He turned a corner and went to put on his brakes, but although he was pressing the brake down firmly, the car wouldn't slow.

"What the..." Stiles began, looking up from his brake pedal to the road. He saw a man stood in the middle of the road in the distance, and Stiles began to panic. His brakes weren't working, the man wasn't moving..._oh god I am going to die_. His heart was beating out of his chest, yet he didn't even make a sound as he accepted his fate. He swerved violently to avoid the man with the glowing amber eyes, causing the jeep to roll three times off the road and, with a deafening crash, land on its side.

Yet Stiles still made no sound. The driver's side of the jeep was against the floor, and he moved his right arm to unclip his belt as he crashed down onto the door and onto the road, unable to move no more as his jeep was just a crumpled piece of mess. He was trapped, and he looked out of his window to notice a pair of legs walking towards him.

_I'm going to die_, he thought over and over, his head pounding from the impact of skull to windscreen as his vision blurred and blackness closed in around him. His consciousness (whatever was left of it) told him that two strong arms were picking him up from the wreckage and cradling him, almost like a baby as this person took him away to his death.

"You're safe," the voice said, and Stiles was so close to blacking out he didn't even realise who it was, "Stiles, stay with me!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Just a quick authors note to say that considering I have finished this fic, there will be regular updates! I'm super proud of it and can't wait to start my next one once a plot comes to mind! **

**Also, I am writing a one-shot smut/fluff hobrien fic for Dylan O'Brien's birthday which I'll post on here once I'm done, so keep an eye out for that within the next week or two!**

* * *

CHAPTER 8

Derek sat across from Stiles in the hospital room, looking down at the boy who was battered and bruised. He looked strangely peaceful, despite the fact he was covered head to toe in purpleish bruises. Derek would have made a joke about Stiles sleeping being the only time he ever shut up, but now was not the time. Not after Stiles had been hurt. Purposefully.

He was going to kill whoever had done this to Stiles. And he would feel no remorse afterwards. Hurting himself was one thing, but hurting others to get to him? Not a good idea.

His mind trailed back to that sense of dread and anger he felt erupt inside of him at home, and he knew that Stiles had been hurt. He knew it. He remembered running to wherever this sense would take him, and finding Stiles crumpled in a heap inside his jeep, unconscious and unmoving.

He didn't really remember much after that. It was all a blur. Phoning Scott and bringing Stiles straight here, staying in the waiting room as Sheriff Stilinski arrived and caused a scene, and then finally sitting in the chair opposite the bed as the Sheriff went home to sleep.

Stiles was going to be okay physically, he knew that. He got off quite lucky. No breakages or long term damage, just a pretty bad concussion and a few cuts and bruises. But he wanted to punch himself and everything around him because he knew that Stiles was not going to be okay mentally. In just a few days he'd been in a car crash and ambushed by werewolves. It angered him. It angered him and upset him that even after all of this, he bet that Stiles would still be there. He wouldn't run away.

"Derek?" Scott's voice came from the doorway and Derek turned around in the chair.

"Yes?" He asked, his voice impatient and cracked. He needed a drink but he didn't dare move just in case anything happened to Stiles. His body wouldn't let him.

"Are you okay? He's going to be okay you know, you can leave, I'm here. I think you need to go home and get dressed. You're kind of covered in dirt and blood."

Derek ignored the beta and turned around, reclining in the chair so he was facing Stiles once more.

"Derek..."

"I'm not leaving." He said, firmly. He heard Scott pull up a chair beside him and sit down.

"I know what's going on between you two. Well...I know as much as Stiles does."

Derek said nothing once again. He just looked onward at the boy in the hospital bed with no emotion on his face.

The silence was sweet, and Derek was glad that the whining boy beside him said no more about himself and Stiles, or about anything else for that matter. His mind, once awash with murderous thoughts, was now blank. He just wanted the teen to wake up. It had been almost 4 hours after the accident and he was tired, but he refused to sleep.

"Derek I think you need to..." Scott spoke up after a while, but Derek cut him off.

"Scott you need to get the pack ready. It's been less than a week and shit has hit the fan already. I don't know what the fuck I am doing with my life, but I know that you need to get yours into gear and train the wolves up."

"Okay," Scott replied compliantly and got up from his chair, "we'll all train out the back of yours today."

"Good. Have Lydia work with Isaac, maybe he can teach her a few things about agility. Boyd can work with you and Jackson. Jackson is unnaturally fast for a human being and he's got a few muscles on him. Leave Allison and Erica to do their own thing. Then I want you all to work together. As a pack."

"What are you going to do?" Scott asked just before he reached the doorway. Derek knew Scott knew the answer, and he wanted to hit Scott for making him say it.

"I'm staying here. For Stiles."

Scott nodded once and left, leaving Derek alone with the boy once more.

"Of course you are," Derek heard Stiles mumble.

"Stiles? You're awake? Oh thank fuck," Derek replied, leaning over and watching the teenager open his eyes.

"Such romantic words to hear upon one's awakening Derek," Stiles muttered and cracked a smile, wincing at the pain.

"Don't you dare fucking move Stiles I don't want you to hurt yourself anymore."

"Derek, I'm okay," Stiles moved his head and turned to face the frantic wolf.

Derek almost growled at his ignorance. "No Stiles, you're not okay! Not at all! Do you not think I saw the thing that was in the middle of the road? Amber eyes, Stiles, that means werewolf. That means a werewolf was trying to kill you. For the second time. Because of me. He clearly cut your brake lines for fuck's sake. And I can't have that Stiles I can't..."

"Derek! I'm fine. I'm not dead, look!" Stiles' hand reached out and touched Derek's arm, squeezing slightly, making Derek feel reassured that this wasn't actually a dream, Stiles was indeed awake. "Dude you need sleep, go get some sleep. I'll be fine, it's not as if I can go anywhere can I?"

Derek smiled slightly and leaned back in his seat, lolling his head so he was looking up at the ceiling. He felt relief wash through him that this kid could still crack a joke even after all the shit that's happened. Stiles was gonna be okay.

"I should sleep," he said, moving his head so he was now facing Stiles once more.

"Yes, go home and get som..."

"No I'll sleep here I think." He pulled up the chair Scott was sitting on and put his feet up, shuffling down the seat so he was more comfy.

"You're like my very own guard dog. A guard wolf if you please," Stiles said, turning over on his side and closing his eyes, Derek watching his every move.

"Whatever keeps you safe," Derek replied, falling into a deep sleep, and boy did he need it.

A week passed and everything seemed to be okay again. Stiles was let out of hospital the next day, and of course Derek was the one to drive him home.

_"Is my jeep okay?" Stiles asked once they got into Derek's camero._

_"Of course. Out of all the things you talk about, your fucking jeep is the first thing on your mind."_

_"It's my heart and soul, of course I am worried about it," Stiles remarked._

_"It's in the garage at the moment; I had the betas go pick it up earlier. It's not actually as bad as we thought. Scott straightened out the dent on the roof and it needed a new door from where I yanked it off to get to you but other than that, it looks pretty much the same as it did before. Needs new brake lines of course..." He hesitated and flinched slightly, "but apart from that and perhaps just a few more minor dents here and there according to Scott, it's gonna live."_

Derek had decided that perhaps he should stay away from Stiles. This overwhelming need to touch him and help him was starting to really worry him. It had been nearly two weeks and he was still just as in the dark as when this started to happen.

Of course, the burn was still there. The longing need in his body to talk to Stiles. He'd dodge phone calls and ignore texts. Pack meetings were on halt and training was no longer held in the field out back.

His excuse? He needed to get away from things. Clear his mind. Be by himself for a while.

The reality? Derek didn't want anyone to die because of a fight that was his to battle. Whatever he had done must have been pretty fucking serious if the same wolf (wolves? Derek didn't know) was coming after his friends. He wanted them to be out the way when he fought for his own survival, he didn't want to have them to fight too. His emotions were tearing him apart; he was conflicted in everything he did. This wasn't the Derek that everyone grew to know and...well hate. The old Derek was emotionless, he was a fighter.

This _new _Derek seemed to want to save everyone, not let anyone get harmed. And he knew exactly whose fault that was. He knew who had changed him. Being away from Stiles made it even worse, this bond between them was growing thicker and thicker each day they were apart. But Derek couldn't see him. He couldn't. Because Stiles would get hurt and Derek didn't want that. He couldn't bear to think for a moment that Stiles was dead. Not again. Not after the last time.

Right on cue his phone buzzed and he picked it up to learn he had one voicemail. He held the phone up to his ear and listened.

_"Derek, I know you're dodging my calls and texts on purpose. Don't be such a sour wolf, come on now. This stupid longing thing is killing me and my heart hurts and I can't stop thinking about you even if I don't want to think about you. This isn't me, and it isn't you either so I think that perhaps if we just see each other then this will stop. I know what you're doing. I know you think that by us being apart, that by you and the pack being apart that you're saving everyone. You're not, Derek, you're really not. Stop being an idiot and fight with us for Christ's sake because we're not giving up any time soon. I just really want to see you, it's been a week and I am going bat shit crazy. I still have no idea what is going on with us but I know that if my body doesn't see you soon then I think I might just explode."_

Derek heard the *beep* to signal the end of the voicemail and he stood still for a minute. He had the urge to throw his phone into the fire or out the window because he knew deep down that the idiot boy was right. He'd done it again.

He searched through his phone and found Stiles' number, hitting call and once again holding the phone up to his ear.

"Hello?" The voice said on the other end, and immediately Derek felt at ease. Hearing the teenager's voice seemed to set his mind at rest, and suddenly he didn't feel so exhausted anymore.

"Stiles," he breathed into the phone, sitting down on his sofa.

"I'll be right over," he heard Stiles say and the phone clicked.

Derek needed him. There was no doubt about that. Not even in a sexual way anymore, their bond was changing. Derek actually _liked _him, he _wanted _to spend time with Stiles. He _wanted_ to stay up into the early hours of the morning, talking random shit whilst eating cold pizza. He _wanted _Stiles to rest his cold feet against Derek's legs in order to feel warmer. He wanted all of this. Yet it couldn't happen. Because Stiles would be killed. Could it?

Stiles didn't even knock. He didn't need to. The door swung open and Stiles walked in, stopping just short of Derek, who was stood as still as night. Derek noticed that Stiles looked considerably better. The bruises were fading, now a yellowish colour, covering the right side of his jaw and neck. Derek almost pined in response to seeing Stiles so vulnerable, yet so...alive.

"Fucking Hale," Stiles said and launched himself at the alpha, who gripped Stiles tight and brought him in for a hug, "don't ever fucking do that again I swear to God, the longing feeling was killing me and I couldn't concentrate on anything." He unwound himself from Derek to look at him. "Just remember Derek that you are not the only one in this situation. I am too. Whatever you feel? I feel too. So just get that into that head of yours and we shall be fine. Okay? Good."

Their roles in their...relationship...had now swapped. It was _Stiles _who was the reassuring one. Derek had been so consumed by his emotions that Stiles was the one keeping him in check. Stiles was the one who was keeping him from finding those werewolves and effectively sending himself to his own death. Stiles was the one keeping him alive. He'd found his anchor. The longing feeling and the sudden attraction to Stiles meant nothing to him now. The confusion meant nothing.

He wanted Stiles, he needed Stiles. He leaned in to kiss the teenager ever so lightly on the lips, his arms wrapping around Stiles' waist, bringing him closer, as close as he possibly could to his own body. He could feel Stiles' heart rate increase against his own chest and this only excited Derek more, knowing that he was making someone so flustered so quickly. He reached down and pulled Stiles' shirt over his head, then his own, their bare torsos touching, their skin igniting with passion as each brush felt like fire. They weren't going to make it to the bedroom, but Derek knew this time would be different. They would be having sex for _themselves_, not this stupid burning feeling inside their bodies.

Soon their pants were gone and they were completely naked on the sofa. Stiles' kisses on Derek's face were light and sweet, and as Derek entered him, his moans of pleasure were turning Derek on even more. Derek went slow at first, letting Stiles adjust to his size, but soon enough Stiles was shouting for more, harder and faster, and Derek complied. His body was Stiles' now, and he didn't even care. There was no point in fighting the feeling anymore, he just gave in. And he was happy that he was giving in. He thrust in and out of Stiles, growling in response to Stiles' moans of pleasure, and they came together, their cries mingling as one as it echoed throughout the entire house, and Derek silently thanked God that there was no one around for miles.

Derek collapsed on top of Stiles, who laughed and planted a kiss on the alpha's ear. "See," Stiles began, shifting slightly underneath Derek so Derek would get the hint to move off him, "you've just got to let it happen. You've got to stop letting anger run your life Derek, it's not good for you."

Derek rolled off Stiles and sat up. "I think you need to um..."

"Clean myself up? I'll be right back."

Stiles got up and walked to the kitchen and out of sight. Derek heard the tap run and the tear of kitchen towel as he leant back on the sofa, his back pressing into the back of the sofa so Stiles would have enough room to lie down. He grabbed the blanket from the end of the sofa and threw it round himself, shielding his naked body from the cold as he started to get his breath back.

"You look so cute when you're tired," Stiles said as he walked back in, and Derek snarled.

"I don't look cute doing anything. I don't do cute full stop."

"That'll change," Stiles said, getting under the blanket with Derek as they both lay down, Stiles' back pushing into Derek's chest, creating warmth and comfort, "I know it will. You just need someone in your life Derek, you've been holding out these emotions for so long because you've had so much pent up anger, and now look at you. You're spooning me for Christ's sake."

Derek said nothing as he laid his head to rest in the nook of Stiles' neck, inhaling slowly and taking in Stiles' scent. Derek held him tighter, claiming the teenager as his own.

"Is that a thing now?" Stiles asked, his voice sounding sleepy, "Do werewolves rub up against their sex partners in a desperate attempt to claim them as theirs?"

Derek laughed once and rested a hand on Stiles' waist. "You're an idiot," Derek began, closing his eyes for the impending slumber, "but you're my idiot."

* * *

**Just a quick end note to say that thank you so much for all the reviews, and I see some questions and theories which are good! Everything wraps up don't worry :) Just hold out and your question will be answered I hope! Remember to follow me on twitter (countmeawake) or tumblr (stilinskgay) for details of when the new chapters are up/if you want spoilers or anything else about my writing or just damn right want to follow me, whatever floats your boat :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**I don't really have anything to say here, other than here's the next chapter of the fic! Longer than usual because I added an extra scene... :)**

* * *

CHAPTER 9

So they were an item now. Officially. Stiles had finally hit that wall of Derek's which blocked all emotion from the world. He'd started to knock it down, and make the wolf smile. _Actually smile_. At it made him smile because of it. It made him happy.

Scott knew already, the dumbass had figured it out. And surprisingly, at a pack meeting, the rest of the pack pretty much guessed what had been going on. Of course the werewolves could smell each man on one another at school, or during training sessions, but they were too shy to ask Derek. Lydia was a genius, of course she cottoned on. Allison could see it, she was very observant, and had even spoken to Scott about it but thankfully Scott had said nothing until the whole relationship was out in the open. Jackson didn't really seem bothered by it all, but then Jackson didn't really have emotions to begin with.

Stiles' cuts and bruises were healing and fading, and soon everything was back to normal once again. The pack were training well and Stiles was still having one-to-one lessons with Derek (which often ended up in a more intimate one-to-one session with Derek), but everyone was happy enough to continue with their lives as they had before.

Two whole weeks had passed since Stiles' crash. His jeep was back on top form again, which secretly pleased him the most, but of course he couldn't tell Derek because Derek would growl and they'd end up having sex on the sofa, or on the kitchen counter, on in the back of Stiles' jeep. For a wolf that didn't like to display most emotions, jealousy was sure one of them he could display rather well.

The pack had gathered one Thursday night to discuss the murder that Stiles' dad had been put in charge of, as a lot of things seemed out of place. Of course Stiles was at the Hale household already, he'd shared a pizza with Derek just before everyone arrived, and they all gathered on the sofa and the floor as if they were about to watch a movie.

"The murderer hasn't been caught yet. Dad told me they'd found no fingerprints, no trace, no anything at the scene. And get this." He reached into his backpack to pull out a crime scene photo that had been taken recently, once the trace team had been back to search over the abandoned house the body had been buried not too far from.

Lydia took the photo as she was nearest, and gasped. "But that's a..."

"Spiral," Derek interjected, "a sign of revenge amongst werewolves."

"This wasn't just a murderer. This was a werewolf. And I bet you all the money I have that it's the same wolf that's been stalking here for the past few weeks." Stiles said, shifting slightly and giving Derek a look of worry.

"Which means we need to be on our guard. And we also need to find out more about this. Who this werewolf is, who they've questioned. There might not have been any fingerprints, but we need to look at the crime scene photos more carefully." Derek said, now holding the picture he took from Lydia and folding it to put it in his pocket.

"But they're at the station?" Jackson replied, "How are you going to..."

"Derek and I are off to the station to see if we can steal some of the photographs. Knowing dad he'll find them gone and just print out some more. They're all stored on the computer anyway."

"Well what can we do?" Isaac asked, leaning forward in his chair as if eager to be given an order.

"You guys can stay here, or go bowling, or play with yourself whatever floats your boat," Derek replied, picking up his keys from the side, "but if you do the last one, please refrain from doing it in this house, thank you. Meeting adjourned."

He rested a hand on Stiles' back and pushed him slowly out of the house, leaving the others to ponder over what Derek had just said.

"You don't need to be so worried you know," Derek whispered once they were out of the house, "I won't let anything happen to you."

Stiles sighed as he got into Derek's car, leaning back into the comfy leather seats and turning his head towards Derek. "I know that, but I can't help but worry. At least we have some evidence of what is happening now."

It was just gone 10pm once they had reached the station. Derek turned off the engine and faced Stiles, who just looked at the alpha blankly. "Got a plan?" Stiles asked, and smiled as the werewolf grinned.

"I'm sure I've got a good one," he replied, and Stiles rolled his eyes at Derek's arrogance, "but you're not going to like it."

"Do I get physically hurt?"

"Don't be such an idiot."

They both got out of the car and walked inside the station, Stiles a few paces behind Derek as he was wary of what this plan actually was.

"Now, before we get to the reception," Derek began, backing Stiles against the corridor wall, "here's the plan. You're going to go into your dad's office and get the photos, whilst I distract the woman at the reception."

Stiles found this secretly hilarious. What was he going to do, take off his shirt? From what he knew, Derek did not exactly have a way with words. "Fine," he said, brushing himself off and straightening his shirt, "I know the passcode anyway so I don't see any other way."

"Great," Derek accepted calmly, turning round and leading the way.

The girl on reception looked bored. She was about 5 ft 6, with long blond hair and bright blue eyes. Almost _too _pretty to be working as a receptionist, but Stiles just guessed she was trying to pay her way through college. "Can I help you?" She asked them both, and Stiles almost half expected for Derek to actually lift up his shirt.

Instead he grinned. A dazzling grin that almost broke Derek's face into two. "Hi," Derek said, resting his arm on the counter, "wow, all I came in here to do was report a stolen phone but it seems like I shall have to buy an entirely new one just to get your number."

Stiles almost scoffed at Derek's feeble attempt to chat this girl up, but somehow..._it seemed to work_.

"Oh wow," she said, fluttering her eyelashes like some slut, "so cheesy but I like it," She leant in towards Derek whose grin never faded, "it looks like you might have to."

Stiles wanted to puke. He slowly shuffled away and almost ran down the corridor to the right, finding his dad's office and entering the four digit passcode he knew so well. His dad was at home asleep on the sofa, so he knew the office would be empty, and he shut the door quietly as soon as he got inside. The room as dark but he daren't turn the light on just in case a passerby saw. He moved himself slowly around the desk and to one of the drawers, thanking whoever was up there watching him that his dad had forgotten to lock it.

The photos were on top of the pile of documents, and Stiles took them all, shoving them into his bag and slowly closing the drawer once more. He noticed that his dad had left the copier in his office on, so he checked around for the entire murder report and, once he had found the brown folder, copied the eight sheets that was inside, hoping to god that no one saw the blue light of the copier flash on and off for each piece of paper. He left as quietly as he entered, and once he reached reception, Derek was still sweet talking the girl who by now was practically leaning on the counter offering herself to him.

"I've got to go honey, but I will keep this safe," he said, picking up the piece of paper from the desk and putting it in his jacket pocket, "I'll call you soon."

"Please do," the girl said, and Stiles laughed at her obvious desperate tone, yet the girl was still fixated on Derek.

They got into the car and Stiles took off his bag, throwing it down by his feet.

"Did you get everything?" Derek asked, taking out the piece of paper and chucking it out the window.

"Yep," Stiles replied, noticing Derek's action and turning to face the front.

"Oh stop being so jealous, I threw her number away didn't I?" Derek said almost laughing, and this irritated Stiles.

"I am _not _jealous. I have no need to be jealous. The other day I was in Starbucks and the girl behind the counter wrote her number on the side of the cup. And that cup is still on my desk," Stiles replied, folding his arms over his chest, feeling pleased with himself and waiting for Derek's reply.

He watched Derek's sombre face turn into a look of confusion, then a scowl. A growl rumbled from his chest and at that moment, Stiles knew he had won this round.

"I am going to ravish you," Derek replied, leaning in to Stiles and kissing him on the nose.

Stiles smiled. "Look at you, big bad wolf turned softie," he remarked, and Derek returned his smile.

"I can be bad if I want to."

"Oh believe me, I know."

"Throw that cup away."

"As you wish."

He grinned at his triumphant victory over the wolf, and leaned back in his seat. Apparently he had something to look forward to tonight.

Stiles made sure no one was at the house. He sent a text to everyone asking them if they got home okay, and thankfully within the ten minutes it took Stiles and Derek to return back to the Hale household, everyone had replied. They were barely in the door before Derek had Stiles up against a wall, his hands roughly touching Stiles from his neck to his belt, lifting up his shirt and throwing it with force into the living room. Derek's shirt was next, and with fumbling hands, Stiles' managed to remove it, throwing it with just as much force as Derek had thrown his. Derek grabbed Stiles by the waist and, whilst still kissing the teen, grabbed his ass and picked him up, pushing Stiles against the wall further as Stiles wrapped his legs around the wolf's waist, their flesh on fire as they rubbed up against each other. Stiles gyrated his hips so his pelvis ground against the alpha's crotch, with resulted in a moan of pleasure from Derek and a wave of arousal from Stiles. He could feel one of Derek's hands release his ass and move down to his pants, and almost _too _smoothly, his belt was undone and Derek's hands had moved into his underwear and grasp his dick.

"_Fuck_ Derek," Stiles said into Derek's neck, "if you're gonna be that handsy I'd hold off unless you want me to come right here."

Derek simply nodded and manoeuvred them both to the sofa in the living room, stepping over each shirt as he held on to Stiles. Once they had reached the sofa he threw Stiles down and landed on top of him, kissing from Stiles' neck all the way down to his naval, Stiles arching his back for more. His pants were off and he was now naked in front of the wolf. He blushed and turned his head towards the side the sofa, to which Derek laughed.

"Stiles I've seen you naked loads of times," he said, cocking his head to one side and leaning down to lick Stiles' neck.

"Yeah but you're not naked, I feel left out."

"Oh believe me," Derek said, standing up to remove his pants, "if I could have you naked forever, I would." His hair was tousled and his lips were swollen from kissing, and Stiles had sworn he had never seen such a more perfect sight in front of him.

He was on top of Stiles again, leaving little kisses everywhere he explored. His hands ran down Stiles' sides, resting on his hips which caused a rush of warmth to cascade through Stiles' body, the pleasure almost unmanageable as he moaned into Derek's ear once more.

"Please Derek," he said, almost desperate.

"Not yet, not done," Derek replied, kissing from neck to naval once more and further down still, Stiles' eyes wide with curiosity as to what his wolf was going to do.

He almost came there and then when he felt Derek take him into his mouth. He moaned and his back arched for what seemed like the fiftieth time that night. His hands moved down to grasp Derek's hair and pull lightly in response to the intense bliss as Derek licked his shaft up and down very slowly, sending waves of pleasure coursing through Stiles' veins. He felt himself get even harder as Derek hummed around his dick in approval of Stiles' hair pulling, and Stiles had to pull Derek completely off him after a few seconds, to which Derek frowned.

"I am sorry," Stiles began, catching his breath, "but if you carry on doing that right now I am going to explode."

Derek laughed and licked his lips, growling slowly as he kissed Stiles once more. He felt Derek's hands spread his legs apart and poise himself at Stiles' entrance.

"Shit hang on," Derek replied, and stroked himself a few times to use his own pre-come as lube. He smiled as he saw Stiles' look of utter arousal on his face and Stiles grew impatient.

"Just do it already," Stiles said as Derek entered him, slowly at first. Stiles shifted as, even though the burning sensation was strong, pain mixed with pleasure was turning him on even more.

Derek understood Stiles' shuffling and once he had reached the hilt and let Stiles adjust, he moved his hips to thrust in and out, one, two three times more. Stiles almost screamed with bliss as Derek was already hitting his spot, violent shoots of pleasure erupting throughout Stiles' entire body. Derek carried on, his pace constant as it was what they both needed. They were both angry at each other for making each other jealous, only which in turn created such a lust for each other that they didn't need intimacy right now; they just both needed a good fucking.

Stiles was already at the edge when he grabbed onto Derek's bicep and squeezed. Derek exhaled and placed one hand on Stiles' hips and lifted him up slightly from the sofa, placing his other hand on the back of the sofa as he plunged into Stiles hard and fast, creating a sheen of sweat on his forehead which Stiles wanted to lick out of pure lust. He reached down to grab his own dick as he started to jerk himself off, moaning in displeasure as Derek batted his hand away.

"Derek I..."

He needn't say anymore as Derek's hand had replaced his. Stiles' pleasure barrier was through the roof as Derek was all over him. Everything was that fucking wolf and Stiles didn't even seem to care.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he came violently, his whole body shaking hard as he spilled himself over his stomach and Derek's hand. Derek was close too as his thrusts became more increased and more tense, a growl erupting deep within his chest as he came hard into Stiles, who moaned along with him.

Derek collapsed onto Stiles as their breathing became in sync, and they just stayed there for a while, spent, happy that flesh was touching flesh.

"You growl a lot," Stiles whispered, giggling into Derek's hair.

He felt Derek nip his neck in response which made Stiles jump.

"You're such a dog!" Stiles said, laughing and running a hand through the alpha's hair which was now damp with sweat, "but you're my dog now."

"I told you I'd ravish you," Derek replied, nipping at Stiles' neck once more which made the teen grin with happiness.

* * *

School the next day was the same as always. Stiles driving Scott to school, almost getting a detention from Mr. Harris, the pack talking about pack things around the table at lunch. It was a sunny day, so during a free period, Scott and Stiles walked out on to the field to sit in the bleachers by the field.

"So did you get the photographs?" Scott asked, leaning back so the sun was on his face, closing his eyes and enjoying the heat.

"Yeah, and a copy of the full report. My dad can be a bit of an idiot leaving stuff out on his desk sometimes," Stiles replied, "we'll all talk about it tonight though."

"What did you have to do to get them? Didn't reception stop you?"

"Derek sweet talked the woman at the front desk. Nothing major."

Scott opened his eyes and sat up, laughing. "You're kidding? I bet that was something pretty major for you, I remember when you used to get jealous if someone handed Lydia a pencil."

"Oh please, I have nothing to worry about when it comes to Derek. Hell, if I even whistled he'd come running."

"You do seem to be his one weakness," Scott said, his eyes intent on his best friend, "You and Derek seem to be one. You can't have one without the other."

"A bit like me and sarcasm," Stiles shrugged, remembering the words he'd spoken to Derek the night after he got ambushed by werewolves.

"It seems so," Scott replied.

"What about you and Allison anyway? Anything new?"

Scott piped up at Allison's name, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Not much," Scott said, propping himself up on his elbows, "we had a study session yesterday after you guys left."

"Oh yeah?" Stiles asked, raising his eyebrows, "Did you do much studying?"

He noticed Scott's cheeks flush, but he grinned as if proud of himself. "Not much," he replied.

"That's my boy!" Stiles replied, leaning over and punching Scott in the arm and laughing as Scott flinched.

They didn't speak much again during their free period. They should have been studying, but hell, the sun was out.

* * *

They wouldn't even call them pack meetings anymore. The Hale household always seemed to be full of teenagers talking about their day at school, eating pizza and watching TV.

It was 7pm, and after a hefty meal of Chinese takeaway, the pack were all lounged on the sofa watching an old rerun of Friends. Lydia had of course seen them all, so she was annoying Jackson by whispering every single line into his ear.

Stiles and Derek were sat in the kitchen however; the photos all spread out on the table as they ran their eyes over each photo intently.

"It was definitely a werewolf attack. No trace? No fingerprints? This werewolf likes to be clean and thorough."

"Yeah," Stiles said, finding a photo of the dead body, and holding it out to Derek, "but look at the killing itself. There's dried blood on the clothes. It's as if they were fighting and well I guess this woman couldn't pack a hard enough punch."

"So you're saying that you think two werewolves were involved? One that killed and one that cleaned up?"

"Makes sense, right? It's got to be linked to the two werewolves that attacked me..." He saw Derek flinch slightly at the memory and he moved on quickly, "so...did you kill this girl?"

Derek laughed once, and pushed the photos away. "If I killed this girl, I would have told you. No, I've never seen that woman in my life."

"Alright sour wolf, no need to get so snarky about it..."

Derek _huffed_. Huffed like a child who didn't get his way, and he leaned back in his chair. Stiles laughed aloud and gathered all of the photos into a pile. "I think that's enough for tonight," he said, getting up from his chair and walking to Derek, leaning down and kissing him on the left cheek, "looks like you need your nap."

"Shut the fuck up," Derek replied, but Stiles noticed that slight smile that crept onto Derek's face, and Stiles was satisfied that the wolf was going to be okay and would soon enough get over his mini hissy fit.

Soon it was just them two alone in the house. Allison and Scott had gone off for another one of their "study sessions" whilst the rest had gone their separate ways.

"I wish you'd left with the others, Stiles, you know I don't like you driving home alone." Derek remarked, sitting down on the sofa but first moving Stiles' feet out the way.

"You can't treat me like glass, Derek. Just because I broke through that emotional barrier of yours, it doesn't mean you can go all overprotective on me." Stiles moved so his feet were now on Derek's lap as they both watched the open fire blaze in the living room. It was pitch black out, and although this didn't bother Stiles, he knew it bothered Derek.

The longing feeling, the burn in his heart was there no more. He figured that whatever it was that had originally tried to bind them had done its job. They were together. They'd accepted whatever was happening to them and they'd given in.

And Stiles was happy. He really was. He could sense Derek was happy too, even if he didn't show it often. They both weren't really ones for public displays of affection anyway, Derek showed his adoration for Stiles in different ways, such as being jealous or holding open doors, letting him sit down first or giving Stiles the first slice of pizza. Minor things to show that although Derek may not say it aloud, he really cared.

"Derek?" Stiles began, after a while of them sitting in silence, "What do you think brought us together?"

Derek stayed silent for a moment and Stiles looked up, watching Derek as he thought through his answer. "I don't know the real reason; I've yet to find that out. But I think it's something to do with the fact that perhaps we have so much in common, that we were drawn to each other. Why do you ask?" Derek finally looked towards Stiles, half of his face cast in a shadow and half in light due to the blaze of the fire. Stiles thought to himself that the man sat before him was in fact beautiful.

"No reason, just a thought." He felt Derek squeeze his leg slightly and he felt tired.

"I should go, I'm super tired and I can't stay here tonight, dad's at home. He'd freak if he found out I was sleeping with you."

"Please be safe. And text me as soon as you get in."

Stiles got up and grabbed his keys from his pocket, rolling his eyes at the alpha. "Stop it; I'll be fine, I promise." He leant down to kiss the wolf who responded by nibbling on his lower lip as Stiles gasped. "Not tonight, werewolf, I've got school in the morning."

"That hasn't stopped you before," Derek replied, grinning.

"Enough! I'm going!" Stiles replied and left, getting into his jeep and driving off into the night.

Okay he was a bit scared, he lied. The dark didn't terrify him as such, it just made him more anxious than anything.

Plus there was the fact he swore he was being watched. Out of the corner of his eye at times he'd see amber eyes glaring at him, yet he didn't tell Derek or the rest of the pack because he wasn't sure if they were really there or if he was being paranoid. He didn't want to worry them over nothing.

The ride back was completely fine and Stiles heaved a sigh of relief as he crashed down onto his bed, fully clothed. He checked his phone and found he had two texts, one from Derek (who else) and one from Lydia. He read Derek's first.

_"Got home okay?" _It read, and Stiles laughed.

_"No, died on the way home_."

He then read Lydia's text. Lydia wasn't really one for texting, she was more of a "come meet me and I will tell you in person" kind of girl.

_"Want to meet up for dinner tomorrow night? We haven't spent any time alone in ages and I'd like to discuss everything that's been going on, especially with you and Derek. You know I can't resist a bit of gossip."_

Stiles laughed at the girl he used to obsess over. Of course she couldn't resist a bit of gossip, she was _Lydia Martin _for Christ's sake. He text back a simple yes and opened the insulting text message from Derek, smiling and throwing his phone on the bedside table, not bothering to reply. It took all of his effort to shimmy out of his clothes so he was in just his boxer briefs, getting himself comfortable in bed before finally falling asleep, the whisper of a smile still planted on his face.


	10. Chapter 10

**Oh look at me updating daily now! There are officially three chapters left and an epilogue I will have you know!**

**Also, if you're looking for something more short and sweet I guess, I've just published ****_"Screaming In The Dark"_****, and it's sequel ****_"Trapped In The Dark"_****, two quick one shots that I am proud of so go and give them a read and tell me what you think!**

* * *

Derek sent the last text and put down his phone, relaxing onto the sofa and clearing his mind. He was..._happy. _He never thought he'd say that again but he was happy. That idiot boy was right, he had a pack, a family that cared for him.

And he had Stiles. He didn't even care about what had brought them together in the first place, he was just glad they were together. Stiles was his anchor, his way of calming down when everything became too much for him. Of course he would still have trouble displaying emotions, but the other day he spoke about his sister for the first time in a year, and that was something.

He remembered a conversation he had with Deaton over the phone, and even he didn't know what was going on.

_"I guess you were lonely, so your body chose someone for you. I don't know, Derek, I've never seen this kind of thing before because I've never helped werewolves like you."_

He remembered being angry at Deaton, telling him that he was completely useless. He remembered the slow burn inside his heart, the longing feeling for Stiles when they were apart. But now it was no longer there, it was replaced with another feeling: admiration. Adoration for the idiot boy that had completely changed him in a matter of weeks. The person he worried about if he had to drive home alone. The person he enjoyed being with when they sat together eating pizza or watching TV. The person he just plain cared for as they sat together in front of the fire, talking about their past.

The pack didn't seem to mind they were together, hell they in fact spurred it on.

_"Whey Derek's not a loner anymore!"_

_"Finally Stiles, you can moan to someone else!"_

_"It's nice you two are together, now we don't have to worry about you both being forever alone anymore."_

He'd taken the comments with a light heart over the past few weeks, knowing not to get pent up about them because Stiles took them with a pinch of salt. He in fact enjoyed getting all of the attention for once. Being the Batman instead of Robin.

He got up and carried himself to his bedroom, inhaling once he was inside and smiling. Stiles' scent was still faintly lingering in the air, and it comforted him. He got undressed and pulled the bed-sheets up over himself, inhaling into his pillow once more before falling asleep.

* * *

Stiles woke up and immediately checked his phone. He had three messages, one from Derek ("_Need to see you today"), _one from Lydia (_"Remember dinner tonight! Pick me up at 7?") _and one from Scott (_"Dude we need to get this chemistry project sorted out before Harris kicks our asses_")

He replied to Lydia first, telling her that yes, of course he'd pick her up at 7, and of course he'd remember. He then replied to Scott, telling him that tomorrow they could get together and do the project (although he knew for certain it would be him doing the project whilst Scott would talk about the latest hair grown on Allison's head or something ridiculous), and he didn't even bother replying to Derek, he just got up, put some clothes on and left the house to drive to the Hale household.

It was a cloudy day outside and the roads were empty. Stiles liked it this way because it gave him time to think. It gave him time to think of his dad, and how much better their relationship was recently. It gave him time to think about the pack, and how happy everyone was. And it gave him time to think of Derek and how happy _he _looked. He took his eyes away from the road a second to switch the radio on, and looked back up to the road.

Amber eyes. Those amber eyes were in the bushes yet again. There was no mistaking them; they glowed for Christ's sake. Stiles' breath hitched in his throat as he carried on forward along the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were beginning to turn white. Yet the amber eyes did not move as he passed them. The wolf stayed lurking in the bushes, his body unseen as the jeep passed the spot where he stood, and Stiles breathed a sigh of relief. He knew that the torment wasn't over. He knew he was being watched. But in his mind, he was glad that it was _him _that was worrying, and no one else in the pack. He didn't dare tell Derek because Derek would be on guard again, not letting Stiles out of his sight and blaming the pack for not looking out for Stiles.

He didn't want that. He didn't want people worrying for him, he could do that himself thank you very much.

He got to Derek's house safely and switched off the engine, waiting one...two...yep, three seconds before Derek was at his door.

"Can't you at least wait until I am inside your fricken' house to say hey?" Stiles asked, turning off the engine and stepping out of his jeep, "It's what normal people do. They open the door and let people in and go 'hey! Nice to see you.'"

"I'm not normal people," Derek said, and shoved Stiles up against the jeep forcefully, leaning in and licking Stiles' neck. Fuck, Derek could turn him on so easily.

"You didn't text back," Derek replied, shifting his hips so they met Stiles', sending another wave of pleasure down Stiles' spine as he moved his hips to push back.

"I'm here aren't I?" He almost choked as Derek started biting Stiles' neck lightly, holding him closer so Stiles couldn't pull away. "If we're gonna...you know...can we at least do it _inside _the house?"

He heard Derek growl and felt him pull away, walking away as he grabbed Stiles by the arm and pulled him along. "Gosh Derek you're so romantic, I am so glad you took me out to dinner before you had your way with m..."

Derek shut Stiles up by forcing his lips onto Stiles' once more, and Stiles felt his tongue, rough and hard up against his lips as he opened his mouth to let Derek dominate once again. Soon his shirt was off, and so was Derek's, giving Stiles a free pass to break away and run his hands up the alpha's torso, stopping at his neck and then back down again, slowly and gently, stopping at Derek's belt. Derek kissed his favourite spot on Stiles' neck, the place where his pulse was strongest, and he breathed out slowly, his warm breath sending tingles through Stiles' veins. "I need you," he heard the wolf say into his neck, and Stiles smiled and tilted his head so it rested on top of Derek's. They stood there, inside the door for a while in that position, holding each other and listening to each other breathe in and out.

"I know you do," Stiles replied eventually, moving his hands away from Derek's belt to either side of the older man's neck, pulling him away slowly so he was now looking into Derek's eyes, "I know." Their foreheads came together gently and they stood still for a minute before Derek leaned in to kiss Stiles' lips lightly, leaving little kisses across his jaw line and finally down to his neck, returning his head to the place it once was.

* * *

They didn't have sex, and Derek didn't mind that. In fact, he actually preferred their day together. They sat with each other half naked on the sofa, him getting annoyed at Stiles' stupid sarcastic comments and Stiles laughing, calling him a sour wolf and punching his shoulder every time the teen cracked a joke. He stayed awake as Stiles rested his head in Derek's lap after watching a movie as he took a nap, and Derek was secretly glad that Stiles was finally starting to grow out that buzz cut as he had something to run his fingers through as the boy slept on him. No one called him, no one texted him, it was as if the outside world knew that he just wanted to spend one day alone with the teenager that saved him. Nothing could spoil this day.

He heard Stiles mumble in his sleep slightly, and he looked down to see a small smile planted on the boy's face, which in turn made him smile too. It completely baffled him that he had made someone happy. It completely baffled him that someone wanted to be around him, yet alone sleep with him. It completely baffled him that someone _wanted_ him. But he was glad that that person was Stiles. Stiles knew the angst he was going through, he knew that deep inside of him there was still pain that needed to be healed, and Stiles could relate to that. Stiles let him be angry with him when needed. He knew that the idiot boy would just stand there and let Derek throw things at him if needs be. That idiot boy was too compliant, too nice. Derek didn't deserve him. But he had him.

* * *

It was 7pm, and Stiles pulled up outside Lydia's house in his jeep, tapping his hands on the wheel slowly, waiting for Lydia to finally finish getting ready. She walked outside of her house on the stroke of 7, and Stiles almost fainted from just how on-time she actually was. He'd dressed himself in a smart shirt and his favourite black blazer, and black jeans. Lydia opened the jeep door and stepped inside, placing her bag on the floor and leaning back in her seat. "Hi," she squealed, "you look happy."

"You're actually _on time_," Stiles joked, pulling a mock face of shock and Lydia slapped him on the shoulder.

"Just shut up and drive," she replied, clipping in her belt.

Stiles did as he was told and drove to Lydia's favourite restaurant, some Italian place that was way too expensive for his taste. Thankfully Lydia had reserved a table, and Stiles blessed himself for deciding to look half-decent.

They ordered their food and, although they were both 17, the waiter brought over a bottle of wine. "None for me," Stiles said just as the waiter was about to pour the red liquid into his glass, "I'm driving."

Lydia's parents obviously had a big influence on this place if they were serving alcohol to Lydia and her friends. Lydia nodded at the waiter and he poured her a glass, the delicious looking liquid filling the empty glass slowly as Stiles admired it's colour with awe.

"So," Lydia said after about half an hour of mindless chit chat, swallowing her mouthful of pasta and placing her fork back down on the table, "you and Derek, huh?"

Stiles wondered how long it was going to take for this topic to come up. He smiled to himself and spoke. "Yes, me and Derek."

"How is it going with you two?"

Stiles didn't really know how to respond to that question. There were so many responses running through his head, yet he couldn't really put a finger on the words that sounded right.

"Great," he responded finally as Lydia gave him a worried look.

"Great? Is that it? I brought you out for some gossip, Stiles, not some mindless chit-chat."

Stiles sighed and put his knife and fork together on his plate. "It's great," he began, not looking up from his finished plate, "I talk, he listens. He talks, I listen. Funnily enough we have a lot in common and...I like him a lot."

Lydia squealed, and it made Stiles jump. She clapped her hands together and a grin spread across her face, threatening to break it in two. "I'm so happy for you!" She cried, reaching a hand across the table to cover one of Stiles', "it's so nice to see you happy again."

"I feel it," Stiles said, looking back down at his plate. He could feel his cheeks flush and turn red, and he was suddenly hot with embarrassment. He felt awkward, talking about his feelings with someone other than Derek. Hell, he didn't even explain his feelings properly to Derek.

How did he even feel about the alpha? Were they boyfriends? No, that word sounded too...childish. They were partners, lovers...no that sounded too crude. He couldn't put a name on their relationship; all he knew was that he was happy regardless. He didn't feel quite so alone anymore. In the mental sense, that is. Of course he wasn't alone physically; he had the likes of Lydia and Scott to keep him company. Scott would be with him through thick and thin, he knew that.

But it was nice to be able to share memories of his mother with someone who had also lost someone. He couldn't talk to his dad because he could just how sad the Sherriff still was about it, and he didn't want to depress his father. He liked to sit with Derek at night and talk about his mom before she died, and he finally got him to talk about Laura, his sister. He remembers that night well, it was a big breakthrough for the both of them.

Realising he hadn't spoken in a while, he looked up at Lydia who was still grinning. "Wanna get out of here?" He asked, looking around for the waiter with the bill, "it's getting super busy in here and I am dying to see a film."

"Sure!" Lydia answered, finishing her wine. Stiles noticed that she looked a bit tipsy, and made a mental note to himself not to let Lydia drink anymore tonight. He didn't want to have to face the Martins when he dropped her home, they were scary people.

The waiter came and they split the bill, (Stiles was insistent on paying the full bill himself, but Lydia is just as ignorant as he is), and they got up to leave, thanking the waiter and walking to the door. "Now it's time for you to tell me all about you and Jackson if you're going to want more out of me about Derek," Stiles said as they approached the door, "not the gory details though, I don't want to puke up my dinner."

Lydia ignored the comment and turned around to hug Stiles. "I'm so glad we're friends," she said, pulling back and looking into his eyes, "and I am so glad you're finally happy."

The touching comments from the girl he once loved made Stiles blush once more, and he looked away to open the door so she could walk out. "Same," he replied, noticing Lydia's smile as she walked out, and he followed her outside.

* * *

Derek was watching an old black and white movie that he didn't really care for whilst lounging on his sofa thinking of other things. He did a lot of that recently. Thinking. His mind seemed clearer and his thoughts were more crystal, not so jumbled like they were before. He thought of his sister, and her smile that always made him smile in return. He didn't think of her for too long though, as Derek hadn't cried in years. Not even when he buried his sister all alone. He only felt anger then. Just anger.

Thoughts of his childhood entered his mind. His sister taking him to the park. His dad teaching him about what he was, and how to use it to his advantage. His mother baking pies and slapping away his hand as he reached out to grab a slice. His mom's home-made apple and blueberry pie was always his favourite. He hadn't eaten it since the fire. His eyelids felt heavy as the warmth of the fire mixed with the low buzz of the television made him sleepy, and he drifted off into a slumber on the sofa, peacefully and alone.

He woke up to Scott crashing the door down, his eyes amber with rage and shouting out Derek's name.

"Derek! Derek are you here?"

"In the living room! Scott what the fuck is going on?"

The rage in Scott's voice, and the look on his face together put thoughts into Derek's mind that he didn't want to be true. He really didn't want them to be true.

"Derek..." Scott began, sniffing the air and almost screaming when he didn't get the scent he was looking for.

It was true.

"Stiles has gone."


	11. Chapter 11

**So here's the next chapter! Sorry for the cliffhanger last chapter but it's not as if you had to wait long now is it? **

**Just a reminder that if you're looking for something more short and sweet I guess, I've just published ****_"Screaming In The Dark"_****, and it's sequel ****_"Trapped In The Dark"_****, two quick one shots that I am proud of so go and give them a read and tell me what you think!**

* * *

No. He wouldn't believe it. No, no one has taken Stiles. He was an idiot; he just wasn't answering his phone. Him and Lydia were clearly at a movie or something.

"How do you know this?" Derek asked, wishing Scott was just being a moron and overprotective of his best friend.

Scott paced up and down the room and it made Derek agitated with worry. "Jackson was worried that Lydia wasn't answering her phone. So he drove up to the place where they were meant to be eating dinner and...Stiles' jeep was there. The door was open and their phones were on the floor so Jackson called me and I was with Isaac and we arrived and we smelled another wolf."

"Another _wolf_?" Derek almost shouted.

He wished this wasn't true. For a moment he wished that Stiles had decided he still loved Lydia, and they had staged it all and driven off in Lydia's car to elope somewhere abroad. He could see them now, on a plane together, their hands resting one over the other on the arm rest between them both, champagne in the other hand. He could see them clink their glasses together and drink to a better future, leaning in and kissing slowly, their noses nuzzling together as they both smiled.

He wanted that to happen. If it meant Stiles wasn't afraid and hurt.

"Another wolf," Scott repeated his words, his eyes frantic with anger "possibly more. Isaac has gone to warn Boyd and Erica, I've notified Allison and Jackson is in some sort of frenzy that they've got Lydia, too."

Derek wanted to rip his own throat out with his claws. If he hadn't have fallen asleep earlier perhaps he would have _felt _something, a presence to signify that Stiles was in danger.

"Derek!" Scott almost shouted, and Derek was back in the room once more. "What are we going to do?"

His mind was blank, all but one thought. _Stiles was in danger._

"Let me handle this," Derek said, gathering his thoughts and shaking his head back and forth as if to clear his mind.

"Are you kidding? No we're a pack. He's my best friend okay not just your fuck buddy..."

Derek sprinted across the room and his hands reached up and grabbed Scott by the throat, pushing him back against the wall.

"Okay, okay," Scott said, holding his hands up, "he's not just a fuck buddy."

Derek released Scott and stepped a few paces back. "I know his scent," Derek began, a plan formulating in his mind. "I know it like the back of my hand. Take me to the place where they were and I'll be able to find him."

"You sure? They could be miles away!" Scott shouted, clearly thinking this was a stupid plan.

Of course he knew Stiles' scent. It was the scent he fell asleep to at night, the scent he woke up to when his nightmares got the better of him. It was the scent that calmed him back to sleep, that stroked his hair and whispered sweet nothings into his ear to still his thoughts and make him drift off again. It was the scent that woke him up with a kiss on the lips, or a brush of the cheek.

"Believe me," Derek began, his eyes turning a vivid bright red as his strength greatened as he shifted, "I know his scent."

* * *

They were in the back of a van. Out of all the fucking places to be thrown into, they were in the back of a van. His head absolutely killed, and he could feel a slow wetness across his forehead. Fucking great. Blood.

He heard a whimper from the side of him and, realising his hands were cuffed behind his back, he shifted onto his side. "Lydia?" He whispered, trying to see in the pitch dark, "Lydia are you there?"

It was a few seconds before the girl answered, and Stiles winced with worry as he heard her response. "Stiles? Is that you? Oh my god where are we I am so scared what's happened?" She choked out a sob and her voice sounded dry and strangled.

Stiles didn't answer as the van came to a halt. He heard Lydia gasp and right now he would give anything just to reach out and touch her, hold her through her fear. Tell her everything was going to be okay when, in reality, they were probably going to die.

The van doors opened and two men (werewolves?) he had never seen before grabbed either side of him and pulled him out, standing him on his own two feet yet never releasing their grip. "Ouch guys," Stiles began, looking at both men, "little rough, don'tcha think?"

"We can be rougher," the taller guy said with a gruff.

"Ooh I just love it when you talk dirty," Stiles replied with a wink, and received a blow to the head.

His vision was blurry and he cursed himself for being too sassy in such a serious situation.

He heard Lydia choke a sob and his heart hurt. They were both led into some old abandoned house that looked way too familiar for Stiles' liking, and down a corridor into a room that seemed old and decrepit and smelled of old rotting wood and damp. He was thrown against the stone fireplace that created an explosion of pain in his back, but he looked over to see Lydia now lying on the floor, a faint trickle of blood dripping down the right side of her face.

_Please don't be dead, please don't be dead_, he thought to himself. He couldn't handle that. He couldn't handle another death in his life. He didn't think his emotions could take anymore turmoil. The room was silent as he tried to focus his vision on Lydia, looking for a sign, for _anything_ that would decipher if she was alive or not.

He looked at her chest and noticed it moving. Her breathing was shallow, but she was at least alive. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and he choked a sob back, determined to stay strong for whatever was to come. He doubted he'd make it out alive anyway.

He looked around, getting up onto his knees to look out the window into the front yard. He didn't dare move anymore otherwise the men would be back in and would no doubt torture him some more.

He recognized the place. It was the old abandoned house that the murdered girl had been found nearby. His stomach churned and he felt like vomiting. Everything made so much sense but he was still so very confused.

He hoped Lydia was okay. He hoped that the pack was okay, and that his dad was okay. But most of all, he hoped Derek was okay. Because Stiles knew this was all because of him. Whatever he did had really pissed off some wolves. He knew he'd been kidnapped because of his tie with Derek. And he didn't care. He didn't care if he died if it resulted in Derek living. He knew right now that Derek would be frantic with worry and anger, and he hoped, _oh god he hoped _that Derek wouldn't come here on a suicide mission.

"You're pretty hard to kill, you know. I bet you're wondering why you're here," a voice said from behind him, and he shuffled around to face the familiar wolf.

"Nope, I've pretty much guessed," Stiles replied, holding his chin up high. He was terrified. He was terrified of death, he was terrified for Lydia, but most of all he was terrified for his friends, "but why don't you fill me in on the gaps?"

* * *

He wished. He wished with all of his heart that Stiles had secretly fallen back in love with Lydia and they had decided to elope. He wished he could have that phone call with Stiles one day in the future, where Stiles would explain that their relationship was a scam, that Stiles was kidding himself and that no, he didn't like Derek anymore. He wished.

But when he and Scott pulled up outside of the restaurant, and Derek saw the scene before him, he knew that wasn't true.

The driver's side door to the jeep was wide open. His keys, phone and wallet were on the floor, splayed out as if he had been grabbed from behind so roughly that it had caused his belongings to scatter everywhere from his hands and pockets. He noticed the wallet on the floor and picked it up, catching a photo that had fallen out from it in mid air, and that was when Derek knew that Stiles hadn't planned this.

_"Do you have photos of her?" Stiles asked, leaning into Derek a bit more who was cuddling him from behind._

_They were in bed together. They'd just completed another round of training, and Derek had to admit, Stiles was getting predominantly better at this. He'd been slashed and hurt a few times, but he healed quickly. Of course, Stiles interjected and wanted to nurse the wound, even though there was absolutely no need. This was one of those nights where training finished a little late and, as it was a Saturday, Stiles had insisted he'd buy Chinese takeaway. Things had gotten a little heated and after having sex twice (once on the sofa and once in bed), they were absolutely exhausted. Stiles had texted his dad to tell him that he was staying over at Scott's, Derek wouldn't let him drive back home in such a condition._

_"Photos of whom?" Derek replied, his hand twisting round Stiles' waist as he nuzzled into the back of Stiles' neck, pulling him closer still._

_"Laura."_

_Derek stiffened at the name, and his emotional wall was back up once more. He said nothing as he felt Stiles shift and turn around so they were now facing each other. He looked Stiles in the eyes, the eyes of a boy who looked concerned. "Derek?" Stiles asked, prompting Derek to speak and he cleared his throat. _

_"No. Not anymore. Most photos were charred in the fire. I don't have any photos of any of my family."_

_The silence between them was strong, and Stiles just looked at Derek for a while. "I'm sorry," he said finally, reaching up a hand from under the covers to brush his hand against Derek's cheek. Derek closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, the touch that was all too familiar in situations like these. Situations where he felt like crying._

_"I have a photo of my mom. In my wallet. It's the only photo I have; dad has one in his bedroom of all of us together. I remember her complaining that she wasn't really a photogenic person, I was only young but I remember dad trying to take a photo of all of us and she moved her hands up to cover her face. I remember her blushing and shouting at dad who only laughed whilst I sat there and smiled along with them. I didn't really know what was going on, but I knew that it was a happy moment."_

_Derek said nothing as he let the boy spill out his emotions. Emotions that he had clearly held in for too long, emotions that needed to be let out. "After she died, I...I remember finding this photo amongst her belongings before dad put them in the attic. It's just a single photo of her; it looks like it was taken a few years before she died. I know I shouldn't, but I carry it everywhere with me now. But she lied, my mom, she lied. She really was a photogenic person."_

_Nothing else was said that night. Stiles fell asleep soon after in his arms and Stiles' head on his chest whilst Derek watched the teen breathing in and out. He brushed away a single tear from Stiles' left eye with his thumb and he cradled Stiles more. This boy was completely broken inside, yet he put on a brave face for everyone else. The boy was annoying, but Derek wanted to cry with him, tell him everything was going to be okay, they had each other. But he couldn't. It was too soon. They'd only been intimate two or three weeks...yet his feelings for the idiot had advanced rapidly. He wanted to hold Stiles forever, protect him from hurt and pain...yet that was impossible, and it killed him inside. He fell asleep soon after, thoughts of his own mother etched onto his mind as his chest rose and fell in sync with Stiles'._

The photo of Stiles' mom lay in his outstretched palm as he remembered the memory, remembered the night that had changed their relationship completely. The night Stiles had finally opened up to him, which in turn had caused him to talk about his past, and his pain.

Derek wanted to scream. He wanted to scream and shift and kill anything in sight that would prevent him from saving Stiles. He heard a door slam open and he looked up, noticing Jackson running out of the restaurant with an exhausted look in his eyes. "The waiter didn't see anything. Nobody saw anything. I'm going out of my _mind_; I am completely useless as a human, I..."

"No," Scott said, shaking his head, "no."

"Derek, you need to turn me. Please. I need to find Lydia, she can't be...I won't let her be dead, I..."

"No." Derek's answer was slow and firm. He needed to calm and focus, not only for Stiles but for everyone else around him. That's what Stiles would say if he were here right now.

"What?!" Jackson replied, his voice rising at the end of the word out of anger. His hair was tousled as if he'd been pulling at it out of rage and worry.

"You're better off human for now. Believe me. Training a wolf takes time and right now we don't have that. Jackson, open the boot to my car. You'll find a shotgun with wolfsbane bullets. Scott, call Allison. Heck, get her dad to come too. I know he doesn't exactly like me but right now a human is in danger and I know he'd like to torture a few wolves to save a human life."

"Right on it," Scott said, picking out his phone from his pocket and dialling Allison's number, "I'll get her to bring weapons too."

Derek nodded and paced back and forth, the picture of Stiles' mom safely in his palm.

He stopped still and closed his eyes, remembering Stiles, remembering his scent and the way his pillow smelled faintly of him after he left. He remembered ripping off Stiles' clothes in a heated frenzy of passion. He remembered more mundane things, eating pizza with Stiles and looking at crime scene photos alone with him out in the kitchen, getting in a sulk and Stiles calling him sour wolf which he _loathed_...

Something clicked. _Of course._

He knew where they were. He knew where they'd taken him. He didn't even need Stiles' scent anymore, but he held onto the smell in his mind for safe keeping, hoping that as long as he had it, Stiles would be okay.

"I know where they are," Derek said to Scott who stopped speaking into the phone, "I know where they've taken them."

"Derek, I think you need to see this..." Scott said. Derek watched Scott walk around to the back of Stiles jeep and to the trunk, his eyes wide with terror. Derek followed and stopped dead.

The spiral.

Revenge.

* * *

Stiles watched as the wolf sauntered over to stop a few paces away from him. He felt intimidated, overshadowed quite literally by the werewolf. Of course it was werewolf #1. Of course it was. He knew what had happened; most of it had fallen into place.

"Oh yeah?" the werewolf said, amusement in his voice. "Why don't you tell me what you know?"

Stiles sat up and began to speak. "That girl that was murdered a while ago. She was something to do with you. And now you think it's something to do with Derek."

"Very good," said werewolf #1 in a patronizing tone, "nearly there." He crouched down so he was eye level with Stiles, and this only terrified him more. Those amber eyes, the eyes that had been watching him all this time were less than a foot away from him, staring into his soul. "Annie, her name was. She was my mate."

The look of confusion on Stiles' face had been obvious enough as werewolf #1 rolled his eyes. "My mate, you idiot. Like Derek is yours?"

Stiles' look of bewilderment only made the wolf laugh as he stood up and almost hopped with glee. "Oh this is wonderful! You have no idea what I am on about, do you?"

Stiles said nothing as he watched the wolf's smile turn into that of a snarl. "This is just great. I shall have to explain it to you then. Remember those nights where you couldn't stop thinking about Derek? That burning feeling in your heart whenever you were away from him? The feeling of utter relief every time his flesh touched yours? His body chose you as a mate, Stiles, and your body accepted. I've been watching you, wondering why Derek chose _you _of all people. Then I came to the conclusion: you have a lot in common. More than you think. I mean hell, physically you're completely different. But mentally...I see you both block out certain emotions from people. You've both got dead relatives, you both look out for your friends, you value their lives over yours...ahh that's right, it's obvious now isn't it?"

Stiles' eyes were wide with fear as he realised he understood everything werewolf #1 had been going on about. Of _course_, it all made sense. That invisible bond between them, the rapid feeling progression...they were mates. Bonded together.

"Now you see...this is where it gets a little gory," werewolf #1 said, leaning against the window ledge and cocking his head to the side, "Derek's sister killed my mate, so now I am going to kill his. And then I am going to kill him."

* * *

**Thank you for all your reviews guys! And I know Stiles has been hurt a lot in this fic, but there is a reason I promise! I wanted to write emotionally from Derek's point of view as we hardly ever see it in the show. I wanted to see Derek hurt and in pain but then Stiles to be his anchor and bring him back to reality and happiness and for Derek to realise that perhaps emotions aren't the worst thing in the world. THIS is what I was going for! Not sure if it's come across like that but hey ho!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Just to let you know, I'm slowly moving this and my other two fics over to archive of our own, now that I have lovingly been given an invite! So check them out there (username is countmeawake) :)**

* * *

Derek put his foot down on the accelerator. Only a few more miles to go and then he'd be there, he'd save Stiles and kill whoever had kidnapped him and then all would be okay again. He'd already come to the conclusion that Stiles wouldn't ever forgive him. He'd never forgive himself for putting Stiles through such a thing. Whatever these wolves wanted, they were using Stiles to get to him and boy was it working. They were out of town now, so Derek put his foot down, not caring that Scott was holding on to the dash board out of terror in the passenger seat. Scott's words were a blur in his mind. He had one destination and one destination only. His body was only ready for one thing, and that was to see Stiles again. Alive.

He'd put the photo of Stiles' mom safely back in Stiles' wallet and that, along with his other belongings were in the back seat next to Jackson, who was still ranting about staying human. His words were a blur too, much like Scott's as Derek sped on. He was nearly there; he could almost taste Stiles' scent on his tongue.

_I'll be there soon Stiles, hold on._

His stomach dropped and pain shot through him, filling his eyes with tears and causing Derek to slam on the brakes. He knew what that was. He'd felt it once before, the night Stiles was in the crash. The night Stiles was hurt. The familiar feelings of worry and dread crashed through his body like waves as he came to terms with what was happening. Scott's shouts of "what the hell was that?!" were distant now as Derek knew only one thing. Stiles was alive, but he was seriously hurt. He pushed his foot down once more on the accelerator and his mind focussed on only one thing. Stiles. Saving Stiles.

* * *

Punches had been thrown, and flesh had been slashed. Stiles was a bloody mess on the floor, his left eye swollen shut by werewolf #1's punches, his lip cut open by the very same fist. His torso was the worst. After not speaking at all of Derek's whereabouts, or about how many were in the pack, a knife was brought out in the hope that Stiles would speak. Seven slashes to the chest later, his shirt and blazer completely torn to pieces, Stiles was ready to die. He was exhausted. He'd convinced himself he wasn't going to see Derek again. Convinced himself he wouldn't see Scott's goofy face, or Erica's long blonde hair, or Isaac's dazzling smile. But he'd smiled throughout the torment, knowing that he'd won. He'd secretly won. He'd be dying for the pack, dying for his friends and his family. The last heroic thing he'd be doing.

_He was a pretty good Batman after all._

Lydia had woken up sometime throughout the torture. He faintly remembered hearing her cry his name over and over, telling the werewolf to stop scratching and punching, stabbing and slashing at Stiles' broken body. He tried to fight back at first, he really did. But after a while he just lay there and took each punch, knowing each cut to the chest was a cut closer to his death, but also a cut closer to his friends' safety. He knew the pack would get there in time, Derek knew his scent like the back of his hand. He knew Lydia would get out okay, and that she'd be safe with Jackson and the rest of the pack. He was actually glad that it was him getting the punches and not Lydia. He didn't feel quite so useless anymore.

"I'm going to kill you now, I hope that's okay," werewolf #1 whispered into Stiles' ear, and Stiles laughed in his face.

"Considering you asked so nicely," he managed to croak, spitting out blood onto the old wood floor that was already covered with it.

Well, there it was. Stiles had finally accepted he was going to die. A wave of tranquillity washed over him, making each limb go numb one by one, breaking over his body as he felt pain no more. His vision blurred from black to normal, to black once again as everything went out of focus. He felt his body go under, give up from the fight yet he carried on. He wanted to carry on until the very end. Maybe he could hold out so he could see Derek's face once more. Just one more time, that's all he wanted.

He hoped his dad would be okay. He hoped Scott would keep him company after his death. He wished he could explain to his dad _why _he was giving up his life to save his pack, _why _he was being such a martyr for the cause. He wished he could just hug his dad once more and tell him that everything was going to be okay, he'd manage without Stiles.

But most of all he wanted to tell Derek to move on. He wanted to tell Derek that he would find another mate, and that soon he would be a distant memory in the wolf's mind. Blood was gushing from his wounds, he could feel that. His mind was going fuzzy from the blood loss.

He saw the snarl on werewolf #1's face as he lifted up his fist for the last time and brought it down on Stiles' head.

His last thoughts were of his dad's eyes, so soft yet wrinkled around the edges from fatigue and age, and that dazzling smile of Derek's that made him so happy inside. He'd given up. But at least he'd given up happy.

* * *

Derek kicked down the door just in time to see werewolf #1 deliver the final blow. He saw the wolf's hand curl into a fist and bring itself down on Stiles' head, who did nothing in return but slump into a heap. There was blood _everywhere_, all over Stiles' chest and legs, all over the floor. Stiles was barely recognizable as his face was so swollen.

Derek wanted to kill everything in sight. He was angry at the wolf, himself, even _Stiles_. He choked back a sob as he knew what Stiles had done. He knew that Stiles had accepted the fact that his life was over in return for the pack's safety. He suddenly felt empty and numb. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Stiles' limp body. He didn't care that Lydia was screaming, or that Allison was crying. He didn't care that Jackson was running over to Lydia, or that the wolves were transforming in order to fight the omega. He didn't care that five more omegas appeared from nowhere, he didn't care, he didn't care, he didn't care. All that was on his mind was Stiles. The limp, lifeless body at the end of the room. The boy that had given up to save his pack, his family.

"Derek!" He heard a screech from Erica who had been bitten in the side by one of the omega wolves, and that made him snap into action. He looked around to see each of his pack fighting a different omega. Punches were being thrown and screams were being heard, all the while Jackson was in the corner trying to keep Lydia awake, taking off his shirt to stem the flow of blood on her forehead. There were five omega werewolves now, one fighting the Argents, and the other four fighting Erica, Boyd, Isaac and Scott. The main werewolf shot round from Stiles' body to face the rest of the wolves, and Derek gasped as he realized who it was. He recognized the tall man, his short dark hair tousled from fighting. "Luthor?!" He shouted, to which the rest of the pack raised their eyebrows in confusion.

"Congratulations, you have eyes."

"What the fuck are you doing?" Derek snarled and he could feel his eyes glow red and his claws sharpen. He could feel the anger in him turning into strength as he prepared to lunge at his former friend.

"Let's just say your family inspired me to become what I am today. Unfortunately, that inspiration ended when your sister killed my mate." Luthor said angrily, his eyes now glowing bright amber.

"Your mate?" Derek asked, his claws digging in to his palms as he clenched his fists tighter. He'd hear what the wolf had to say, and then he'd kill him. There was his plan.

"Jesus Christ Derek, you were born werewolf! I am not going through this again I've already been through it with this one over here," he said, reaching his foot back so he kicked the teenage boy behind him. Derek snarled. "And to think it took me nearly a year to figure out that it was your sister that killed Annie! I should have known really, they'd always had it in for each other. Laura obviously got too jealous that I had picked Annie and she killed her. A bitch-fight turned sour. What can I say? I'm a catch. I'm sure she didn't _mean _to kill her, but she didn't exactly show remorse did she? And of course she just happened to kill an alpha werewolf. _Our _alpha werewolf," he paused and gestured to the wolves fighting, looking around at the scene that was taking place, smiling at the bloodshed which angered Derek right to his very core. "Then she had to go and get herself killed...so what could I do? But it seems like I'm now even, your family has taken something from me, so...I've taken something from you. I'm surprised that you didn't turn this one over here." He reached behind to give Stiles another little nudge and Derek growled again, preparing to attack.

Derek felt his eyes burn with fire as they turned red once again as he sprinted forward towards the wolf he used to call his friend. This was his fight. He thought of Stiles and how much he loved his hair slightly longer. He thought of his fingers brushing his cheek in bed, he thought of the kissing that neck of his, and sucking on that spot he desired the most on Stiles' neck. These thoughts channelled into anger as he landed on top of Luthor, punching him over and over. He could hear screams of Erica and Allison, and finally a triumphant "Yes!" From Chris Argent, who had clearly killed one of the omegas. Derek didn't care. He didn't care about anything other than killing the person who had killed his mate.

It made so much sense now. The burning feeling, the feeling of being spiritually held together by a rope of sorts. The longing feeling if they had been away from each other for too long. Then the burning had stopped after they accepted their feelings for each other and were together once and for all. Derek's body had chosen Stiles as a mate, and Stiles had accepted. Stiles had _wanted_ him.

The room was dark, lit only by a lamp in the corner near Stiles, the light bouncing off the still teenagers face, accentuating his bruises and sending shots of pain and longing and anger throughout Derek's body as he looked at him. The window had been shattered by a stray arrow from Allison's bow in the fight, so the room was now colder than ever. But of course Derek couldn't feel that. He couldn't feel anything. He was numb. Each punch and scratch from the wolf he was fighting felt of nothing, his entire focus was on killing the wolf that had taken away Derek's final chance of happiness.

He heard another yell of triumph, this time from Erica as she had overpowered her omega and killed him, snapping his neck as he hit the floor at an awkward angle. The Argents and Erica were now helping Scott, Isaac and Boyd who were yet to kill theirs. Lydia was now unconscious as Jackson lay on the floor, yelling at her to wake up and rocking her back and forth as if he were insane. Derek couldn't even bear to look at Stiles anymore.

Despite being an alpha, this former beta, this _omega_ was winning. He could feel scratches on his chest, the blood seeping through his tank top. He could feel his bones ache, and his head feel like it was about to explode. He could feel every punch to the face, each one more painful than the last. He fought back, he fought back as hard as he could, but he had to face the fact he was losing.

A distant voice of "GET STILES!" was heard, and Derek recognized the voice, faint in his mind as being Scott.

_Yes, get Stiles. Get him out of here so I don't have to see his body anymore. Don't let anyone else hurt him, touch his body._

Another blow to the head and his vision became blurry, he felt Luthor bite, _hard _into his shoulder as he cried out in pain.

_Just get Stiles out of here_.

* * *

He was moving. He could feel himself curl his fist into a ball. He was in a lot of pain, but at least he was moving.

"GET STILES!" He heard Scott say, and suddenly he felt three pairs of hands on him. He opened his eyes, his vision all but a blur but he still recognized the outlines. Scott was by his head, Erica by his feet and Isaac by his chest. His hands became free once more as he heard the chink of metal being broken and the cuffs being thrown across the room. He could see Erica's face, scrunched up in pain and covered in tears. His eyes travelled down to his chest to see Isaac's veins turn a weird black colour and flinch slightly. What were they doing? Were they killing him even more? Sending him to his death faster? Why was Scott in on this?

Then suddenly his mind was clear. Pain from his chest and his legs was beginning to fade slightly. His headache was going. That familiar wave of tranquillity washed over him once more, but he knew what it was for this time. The wolves were getting rid of some of his pain; they were trying to heal him. He wanted to shout at them, tell them to stop, hell he wasn't even sure why they were here. How long had it been since he had passed out? He felt awful. He wanted to tell them to stop. This was his pain and his pain only; he didn't want the others to feel what he felt.

"Fucking hell Stiles, you took a few blows," Scott whispered by Stiles' ear. He smiled and, even though it pained him, it pleased him too that Scott could still crack a joke in a time like this.

But nothing, _nothing _had prepared him for when he looked over into the middle of the room. He could see Jackson holding Lydia out of the corner of his eye. He could see the Argents and Boyd fight three wolves, and Stiles almost revelled in the fact that they looked like they were _winning_. But when he looked at the two figures standing in the centre of the room, he could see who was winning that fight. And it wasn't Derek.

Stiles wanted to scream. He wanted to shout at Derek for going on some sort of suicide mission. He wanted to shout at Derek to tell him that he wasn't dead, look! He was still alive. He wanted to shout at Derek to stop and run away, to not get hurt anymore because it was hurting him in the process. Physical pain had absolutely nothing on mental pain, and right now Stiles was suffering from both. He felt strong enough to shuffle and move his legs, standing up and thanking Scott silently for holding him when he wobbled.

"Derek!" He called out with all of his might, his lungs burning from the ache. The choked sound that erupted from Stiles' body was not enough to stop the fighting going on in the back, but it was enough to stop werewolf #1 from slowly killing Derek.

"It's alive!" Luthor called out and his hands flew up into the air as if to praise God, "Derek look, it lives!"

Derek's growl was barely audible as he moved along the floor. He was down, but he definitely was not out. Stiles could see that. He could also see the knife on the floor by the window, but Stiles knew that one move of even a finger and Luthor would snap his neck. Stiles could tell that this wolf had been trained by an alpha. The way he stood, proud of himself in the centre of the room.

Suddenly the omega wolves weren't fighting at the back any more. Stiles was knocked to one side and the room span, confusing his thoughts and causing him pain. What was happening? He could hear Scott cry out in pain, he could see Allison on the floor with an arrow sticking out her leg, and he could see Chris Argent violently bring down a sword on an unconscious werewolf. Scott, Erica and Isaac were no longer behind him; they were fighting once more, fighting for their lives and their pack's safety. He had to do the same. Stiles knew what he had to do. He looked over at Derek, who's eyes were full of disbelief and astonishment that actually, no Stiles _wasn't_ dead, he just wasn't the most alive person in the world at that point.

"We can't have this, can we? We can't have you alive, not when _my_ mate is dead. That wasn't part of the plan."

Stiles could feel the chill on his chest from where his shirt had torn and left gaping gaps for the wind to rush over, contrasted with the warmth of the blood trailing down his chest from the still open wounds. He looked down and it reminded him of when he watched the waiter pour the blood-red liquid into the glass, staining each side as each droplet continued to fall from the top of the glass even after it had finished being poured. That seemed like so long ago.

Stiles had been given a second chance. He wasn't going to die this time. He was going to live, and Derek was going to live. He was going to be able to kiss him once more, and run his hands over his body as they both lay on the sofa watching movies.

He was going to be able to hug his dad once more and eat takeaway when his dad couldn't be bothered to cook. He was going to be able to goof around with Scott and talk about gossip with Lydia.

Luthor cocked his head to the side, his eyes wide and insane. He crouched, his face shifting into wolf form as he sprang towards Stiles, who stood completely still. His eyes however shifted over to Derek, who reached out for the knife he'd managed to move over to, throwing it to Stiles who had caught it with his right hand. Before Luthor could land his jump Stiles had plunged the knife straight into the wolf's chest, stopping him dead in his tracks as his feet landed to the floor. Stiles didn't let go of the knife until he saw specks of blood appear at the sides of Luthor's mouth as he coughed, the light go out in his eyes as his legs gave way and he dropped to the floor at an awkward angle, never moving again.

Nobody spoke. Everybody stopped fighting to notice the dead body, the body that had caused all of this pain and heartache. The body that had scared the lives out of the pack for the past month. The body that was now dead on the floor. The body that Stiles had killed.

The omega wolves surrendered and ran as fast as they could out of the house. No one ever saw them again; they were obviously there under Luthor's orders.

Everything seemed still. Stiles dropped the knife which made a deafening clattering sound. He felt numb again; his legs gave out from underneath him as his head exploded in pain.

But he never hit the floor. He felt himself fall into those all-too familiar arms which clung to him tightly.

"Stiles? Stiles don't you dare fucking leave me," he heard, and he opened his eyes to look up. He had hoped to live, but his body clearly wasn't having any of it. It was just too exhausted from all the trauma. It needed sleep, and Stiles was willing to grant its wish. He'd seen Derek's face one last time.

He tried to muster up some words to tell the wolf, to tell his mate that everything was going to be okay. He wanted these arms to be around him always and forever, for no other reasons but his own selfish need. He wanted Derek all to himself; Derek was _his _mate, _his _guard wolf. They were each others.

He felt himself being lifted up and the room span around him. He wanted to throw up and black out at the same time. He had no muscle control anymore, his thoughts were alive but his body was limp. "Stiles stay with me I swear to God..."

"Never..." Stiles managed to choke out, his own selfish want getting the better of him as he looked up to Derek's face which sent a wash of peacefulness throughout his body, starting from the top of his head right down to his toes, "never...let me..."

"I'll never let you go," Derek said, shaking his head frantically and Stiles could feel the wolf clutch him tighter to his chest as Stiles finally gave into the darkness.


	13. Chapter 13

**So I'm posting the last chapters all at once because I am moving over to ao3. If you want me to still post my fics here, or if you find it easier reading them here then just post in the comments or send me a PM or whatever! Thank you for all of your support, it really means a lot :)**

* * *

_Stiles opened his eyes and found he was sitting on hard stone, his knees up against his chest and his arms wrapped around himself. He took a minute to take in his surroundings. A huge tree stood to his left, and straight ahead he could see the ocean span for miles and miles. It was a sunny day, so the sun bounced off the water in such a way that it made Stiles' breath hitch in his throat, he had never seen anything more beautiful. _

_"Do you remember this place?" He heard a voice say from behind him. He knew who it was, of course it was her. _

_"Yeah, you used to take me here when I was small. We used to own a cottage just up the road a few miles back. You were always so worried that I'd slip and fall into the ocean."_

_"But you never did, you were always so careful."_

_The woman sat down beside him and rested a graceful hand on his arm, squeezing slightly to get some sort of emotional response. He sat still, his eyes looking out into the ocean, so she spoke again. "Your dad would be at the cottage cooking dinner...well, trying to cook dinner," she laughed once, "so I'd always bring you out here, to this very spot. We used to sit here, you and me. You would curl up on my lap and lean into my chest, sucking your thumb whilst I would teach you the stars."_

_"I remember trying to count them but always getting lost," Stiles said, smiling into his knees._

_"That's right; I would always have to tell you to stop before you became too frustrated."_

_They said nothing for a while; they just sat there enjoying each other's company whilst the waves became a little choppier off shore._

_"Am I dead?" Stiles finally asked, moving his head to the right to face his mother._

_She stared at her son for a second, and then smiled. "Do you feel dead?" She asked, one eyebrow rising in reaction._

_Stiles thought about that question for a second. Did he feel dead? He was certainly alive, he was certainly moving. But then why was he here? And why was he seeing his dead mother?_

_"No, not physically," he replied, turning his head back to look once more out into the ocean._

_"Then you're not dead," she responded bluntly, taking her hand off Stiles' knee and placing it in her lap slowly._

_"I miss you mom," Stiles admitted finally, the words working their way out with such a force that Stiles thought he was going to choke._

_"I know honey," she responded after a moment's reflection, "I know. But he'll miss you more, you know. That werewolf you've got wrapped around your little finger. He's broken enough already. He'll fall to pieces if you're not there to help him. You're his anchor."_

_Stiles looked at his mother. He took in her long dark blonde hair that rested on her shoulders. Her dark blue eyes that shone out against her pale skin. Her sweet smile that he remembered so well. She looked happy._

_"You have a choice," his mother said finally, "you can stay here with me, or go back to reality. Go back to living and go back to Derek."_

_Hearing his name jolted Stiles' heart and it pulsated strongly. His head swam with thoughts of his idiot wolf. The ways he got jealous, the ways he stroked Stiles' hair. Stiles was growing it out especially for Derek, he hoped he knew that. His mind shot back to the time Derek was in his room on his bed, and he'd noticed the Starbucks coffee cup still on the bedside table, one side emblazoned with the girl's number in black marker. He remembered laughing as Derek screwed it up in his hands and chucked it in the trash can, resulting in Stiles calling him a sour wolf and them having sex on his bed. He smiled. He couldn't leave that. He couldn't leave Derek._

_"I see you've already made your choice," his mother answered in response to Stiles' face, "I see he's had a big impact on your life."_

_All Stiles could do was nod and say "he's my mate."_

_"Don't let that one go, Stiles," his mother replied, and Stiles nodded once more. _

_"Oh believe me; _he'll_ never let _me_ go."_

_His mother got up onto her feet and held out a hand. Stiles took it gladly, her touch warm and soft in both his palm and his heart._

_"Then jump," she said, pointing her head at the cliff-side and pulling him over to it._

_"I'm sorry?" He said, looking back and forth from the ocean below to his mother's face._

_"You've made your choice. Every decision starts with a jump. You've made your decision, now make your jump."_

_Stiles let go of his mother's hand for the last time, and walked three paces to the cliff's edge. He looked back at his mother whose eyes were wet, but her face was contorted into a wonderful grin. "I'll miss you mom," Stiles said, and the constricted feeling was back in his throat._

_"I'll miss you too, son," she replied, clasping her hands together over her chest, "every day."_

_No more words were exchanged between them as Stiles looked down at the ocean below. He closed his eyes and took one step forward, and suddenly he was falling. Falling into darkness and into the crashing waves. He'd made his decision. He'd made the jump._

* * *

Derek was fucking exhausted. He'd been awake for three days straight, worrying his ass off and staring at the same body like some over protective pet. People had come and gone, given him food and advised him to go home and _sleep_, all of which he refused. He wasn't moving. He'd go to the vending machine once or twice for a candy bar and a water to fill his hunger and quench his thirst, and perhaps make a few trips to the toilet, but other than that he sat in the same position.

_Why didn't he just wake up? He was alive, but he wasn't fucking awake, just wake up Stiles please._

The past few days were a haze. He'd carried Stiles all the way to the hospital. He'd gone sick with worry when they said his injuries were potentially fatal. He grew angry and tired when he wouldn't wake up from his coma. They said it was the body going into shock that once Stiles woke up he'd be fine. But Derek was convinced that inside that idiot boy's mind, he was fighting himself to stay alive. So he stayed there. He stayed sat opposite the bed in an uncomfortable hospital chair. He stayed as people he knew came into the room to tell him to go home; he stayed as people he didn't know came to tell him to do the same. But he refused. His protective instinct was too strong. He wasn't even sure if he was doing this because Stiles was his mate, or because he felt the need to. This was his entire fault, he knew that. He felt obligated to stick beside Stiles. He was punishing himself by forcing himself to look at what he had done, every second of every day. He hated himself, if he could slit his own throat he could. But of course he'd heal. He'd healed once they'd reached the hospital that same night. And now he was here. Waiting for Stiles to heal.

The thought of giving Stiles the bite had entered his mind precisely twenty six times throughout the past three days. That's all it took. One bite and he'd be okay again. He'd awaken and Derek would be able to look into his eyes and sigh with relief and kiss him on his pale chapped lips.

But he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to do it. Stiles didn't want the bite, he knew that. Plus, he was more valuable as human. He could see logic where wolves couldn't. He could be reasonable when wolves were unable to.

_Fuck_, he really needed that boy to wake up. He wanted to shout at him and ask him what the fuck he was thinking of, being a martyr to the pack. He wanted to kiss him, all over his body and hug him until the sun rose. He wanted to hear Stiles call him a sour wolf even though he hated it.

He bowed his head in defeat and slumped back into his chair. It was night time, yet he only knew that from the darkness outside. Soon they'd be entering day four of Stiles' coma, and he didn't think he could take it much longer.

Derek leant forward and put his head on to the bed by Stiles' hand, resting his eyes for just a second. He could almost feel the touch of Stiles, his long bony fingers winding themselves into Derek's hair and tugging slightly as if to wake him up from something...

His head shot up and he looked at Stiles, whose eyes were wide and his mouth in a slight smile. "I'm back," he managed to croak, and Derek almost died from joy. His relief came in waves, he completely forgot about his anger and his frustration as he looked at the teenager, his mate. He was okay, Derek didn't have to worry anymore. Everything was going to be okay.

"Don't you ever fucking do that to me again Stiles I swear to God I was going out of my mind."

"Such romantic words to hear upon one's awakening," Stiles remarked, mimicking the words he had spoken to the wolf the last time they were in this situation, and reached up to pull his alpha in for a bone crushing hug.

"Ouch, still a little fragile here," Stiles said and Derek pulled away, apologetic, "I didn't mean for you to let go, I'm cold."

Derek lifted up the covers and scooted Stiles along to the edge of the bed with his arms. He got into the bed and pulled the covers back over them both, pulling Stiles into his embrace.

"Better," Stiles said, resting his head on Derek's chest. "I'm tired. Being in a coma is exhausting you know."

"I'm tired too, exhausted actually. I haven't slept properly in three days." Derek replied, laughing at his idiot mate and holding Stiles close, "you can even rest your cold feet on my legs if you want."

"Sleep then, I'm alive, I'm here," Stiles reassured, his fingers trailing up and down Derek's chest. Derek shivered in response and, even though he was fully clothed, he swore down it was the best moment between them two yet.

He felt Stiles smile against the skin of his neck, and he drifted off into a sweet slumber, clutching Stiles tight as he was never letting go again.

* * *

"I'm sorry, what?"

Stiles had been allowed home the next day, providing he took a week off school and did nothing but stay in his bed. The nurse had said that Stiles was "absolutely fine, it was just a case of stitching up his chest wounds and waiting for his lazy body to wake up from his coma." Of course the bed rest was the worst possible news to Stiles considering he was the most fidgety person he knew. Bed rest was the equivalent of hell to him. But considering he was still beat up pretty bad, with two broken ribs and a mild concussion, bed rest was the only option.

"I have a...partner, I'm seeing someone."

"Who is he?"

Both he and his dad were sat around the kitchen table with the crime scene photos spread out once more. Although Stiles knew exactly what had happened, his dad didn't, and he wasn't willing to let the entire town know that werewolves were afoot.

The story was that Stiles and Lydia had been mugged whilst they were out, and had been beaten up pretty bad. Of course there was now a police investigation, but it would soon lead to a dead end. Lydia got out of hospital the day before Stiles, and she was there when he was let out to go home.

"How do you know it's a he?" Stiles asked, leaning forward on the table, nearly knocking over his coffee. His dad had let him sit down on the table for a few hours providing Stiles didn't move too much. Stiles figured that his dad was at a complete loss with this murder case, and needed a fresh pair of eyes, but Stiles couldn't help him. He couldn't tell the truth, so a simple, "I don't know what to say, dad," had done the trick and the Sheriff had officially called the station to close the case.

"If it were a girl, Stiles, you would have brought her home immediately. Who's the lucky fella?" He asked, taking a swig from his mug of coffee.

"Ah," Stiles began, twiddling his thumbs together, "that's the problem. It's someone you're not exactly fond of..."

"Go on..." Stiles' dad encouraged, a look of worry spread across his face.

Stiles lifted one hand to rub the back of his neck out of awkwardness, and he sighed. He'd just have to get it over and done with. He breathed in and held his breath for just a second too long, watching his dad get impatient across the table. "It's Derek. Derek Hale."

"The guy we arrested a while back?!" His dad piped up and Stiles held out two hands in defence.

"He was exonerated!" He cried, "I really like him dad please give us a chance."

His dad sighed and nodded his head. "Whatever, you're nearly eighteen so if you're happy, you're happy. Just don't mind me if I bring out my pistol when he's around."

Stiles rolled his eyes and got up from his chair, wincing in pain. "I'm fine dad," he said as his father had gotten up to help him, "I'm just going to bed. Derek will be round later, just let him in and let him up to my room."

"Keep the door open!" His dad called as Stiles had reached the stairs.

Stiles smiled and carried himself up the stairs slowly to his room. His dad had certainly taken that better than he thought. It looked like everything was going to be okay after all.

Later that day, Stiles had just finished taking a nap when there was a knock at his door. "It's open," Stiles remarked and sat up in his bed, reaching out to his phone to reply to a text message from Scott.

The door opened and Derek walked in, smiling slightly as he shut the door behind him. "We need to talk," he stated as he sat down on the edge of Stiles' bed, his face completely straight and Stiles sighed.

"I know what this is about, I had a feeling it was coming," he began, his voice dripping with annoyance and his eyes intent on the wolf that looked so anxious, "but no."

"What do you mean 'no'?" Derek asked, his eyes widening with confusion.

Stiles sighed. "No, you're not breaking up with me. I won't allow it, nope. You think that this is your entire fault. You think that there's a part of me inside that won't forgive you. But Derek you see, there's nothing there to forgive. You've done nothing wrong. We may never know the real reason why your sister killed Annie, or whether Luthor was telling the truth about it all and frankly we don't need to. Because everything that has happened? It's in the past now. It's done. It's over." Stiles paused for a second, watching Derek's eyes stare at him carefully. "When I was in a coma, I met my mom again. She gave me a decision, to stay there or to jump and for God's sake Derek I jumped because I want to give us a chance so don't you _dare_ give up on us now because goddamnit wolf I fought for you."

He watched Derek's face change from confusion, to anger, and finally to acceptance. Derek heaved a sigh and scowled at the teenager. "I hate you, I hope you know that."

Stiles threw his head back and laughed. "Don't lie, you feel the complete opposite and you know that."

"I know," Derek replied, and smiled.

He'd said it.

Well, he hadn't said those exact three words but he didn't need to. Stiles knew. He also knew it would be a long time before he'd hear those words out loud, given that Derek's emotional wall would take a lot to break down. But he was getting there.

He moved aside so Derek could get into bed with him, even though it was five o'clock in the afternoon. They lay side by side and talked about small things. About how Lydia was getting on and about how Jackson was ready to become a werewolf. About how Scott was convinced Allison was his mate, and how this all made sense. About how Isaac was bummed he hadn't found his mate yet, but as Derek said, "he's only a baby".

They then joked about Erica and Boyd, and how close they were getting. About how Derek was wrong, perhaps Erica _did _like Boyd, despite her "huge rack", which resulted in a rather painful punch from Stiles.

Derek was happy. He was happy once more. He'd gone over to talk things through with Stiles, but once again Stiles had his thoughts bang on. The idiot boy was his life, his anchor, his _want_.

The awkward stare down between himself and the Sheriff when Derek had first knocked on the front door was slightly worrying, although he let Derek in, placing a hand on the wolf's shoulder to stop him from walking any further. "You take good care of my son, Derek, because he needs someone. Not just me. He needs someone to be there for him and if you break his heart I swear to god I will break you."

"Duly noted," Derek replied and swallowed, walking up the stairs and to Stiles' bedroom.

And now here he was, awake watching Stiles sleep in his arms. He laughed inwardly at the thought that just a few months ago both he and his life were utterly different.

Something had changed within him. And that something had been Stiles. His body was so obviously in need of company, it chose someone most suited. And now, even without the thoughts that Stiles was picked to be his mate, he worshipped the ground the teenager walked on. He guessed that saving the teenager's life from the wolves the first time was what triggered the feelings. And he'd been saving his life ever since.

_No, correction_, Stiles had been saving _his _life ever since. He smiled into the teenager's hair and inhaled, smelling a hint of soap mixed with mint. He reminded himself that he must take a shower with Stiles some time, which sent a tingle of arousal through his spine and he was almost thankful that Stiles wasn't awake to notice.

That thought on his mind, he drifted off to sleep, the boy still safely in his arms and the remnants of a smile still plastered on his face.


	14. Epilogue

**This chapter is shorter because it's the epilogue, again I am moving my fics over to ao3 so follow me there, the username is countmeawake :)**

* * *

"I feel like we're at a fucking wedding," Scott said as he sat down on Derek's sofa.

"Shut the fuck up Scott this is a special day for Jackson."

It had been exactly one month since the death match out of town, and today was the day that Derek had _finally_ allowed for Jackson to become full werewolf. He'd turned eighteen a week ago, the oldest out of all of them bar Derek, so Derek thought it was time to give in to Jackson's wants.

_"He keeps going on Stiles I don't think I can take that voice of his anymore."_

_"Well I don't want you to kill him so just turn him already. Scott and Isaac can train him."_

All of the pack were there to witness. Scott and Allison were with Stiles on one sofa; Erica and Boyd were curled up together in the chair opposite. Lydia was in the corner with her hands clasped over her chest and her eyes sodden with tears, her mascara running down her cheeks leaving jet black streaks, "What if you don't make it?" She cried to Jackson, who shushed her with a chaste kiss on the lips.

"Don't worry, I will. I'm strong enough, don't worry."

"Don't worry? Don't _worry_? My boyfriend is about to be turned into some monster of course I'm worrying!"

Voices shouting "Woah!" and "Hey now!" were heard from across the room, and Stiles looked over to see Lydia with a sorrowful expression on her face.

"You know I didn't mean monster in a bad way, just..."

"Okay let's get this show on the road, Jackson over here," Derek announced impatiently, and Jackson walked over to the spot where Derek stood, "hold out your arm."

"I feel like I should say a few words," Scott piped up, untangling himself from Allison and Stiles laughed, "dearly beloved; we are gathered here today to witness..."

"Scott shut _up_. Stiles tell him to shut up."

"Oh I see how it is Derek, getting the mom of the pack to do your dirty work..._ouch!_"

Stiles had stood up and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, dragging him down to the sofa. "I am not the mom of the pack Scott, and that did not hurt a bit. Shut the fuck up and sit down dog," Stiles informed, sitting down beside a sullen and rather embarrassed looking Scott once more. Scott said nothing and Allison slapped him on the shoulder, giving him a scalding look.

Jackson looked nervous. There was every possible chance that this wouldn't work. Which was why this was being conducted around all of his friends, and at night time. He held out his arm and Derek transformed, his teeth elongating as he leaned forward and grasped Jackson's arm with his hands.

"You ready?" Derek said finally, staring intently at Jackson who only nodded confidently.

"As I'll ever be," Jackson replied, looking over at Lydia and mouthing a sweet "_I'll be okay_," to her as she choked back a sob.

Derek sank his teeth into the flesh as Jackson cried out in pain, and the entire room broke out into various gasps. Scott and Allison clung together like whelk. Erica turned her head towards Boyd's chest as Boyd looked away from the ordeal. Isaac only stared, looking quite interested at the whole scenario. Stiles was strangely calm and silent. He knew this would work. He trusted Derek, and Derek wouldn't have done this if he wasn't almost certain that Jackson would live. Lydia scurried forward but was stopped by Isaac who had gotten up from the floor to pull her into a hug. Lydia buried her face into Isaac's shirt, and Isaac mumbled in discontent, saying something like "my best shirt, Lydia, come on," as Lydia rubbed her mascara covered face into the collar.

Jackson took a few steps back and fell onto the floor with a thump, completely still.

"Give it a few seconds..." Derek said as the pack began to stand up, watching Jackson intently and Stiles knew that the alpha was worried also. He wanted to get up and hug Derek, or just squeeze his arm or _something, _but right now he was glued to his seat as he watched the events unfold before him.

Jackson's fingers started to twitch after about a minute, and the nails started to elongate, but everyone was focussed on his face. His eyes opened and glowed glorious amber, the colour of molten lava that Lydia gasped at in shock and awe as Isaac swung her around to look, his face breaking out into a grin. Sideburns grew and his teeth grew longer, and Jackson stood up and looked at Derek who smiled, pleased of his handiwork.

"I guess it worked then," Jackson said, shaking himself off and closing his eyes, shifting back into his normal self (with a little trouble, Stiles could see, but they had plenty of time to work on that).

"I was half expecting you to rise in the air whilst performing a satanic chant," Boyd announced, and the pack laughed in unison.

"You'll feel a little weird the first few days, best to stay off from school. You'll shift at random moments, you'll hear things from a mile away, but it's alright, you'll be able to control it," Scott announced, and Stiles remembered those first few days of Scott becoming a werewolf, smiling at the memory which seemed so long ago.

Stiles' wounds had healed nicely. He'd have minor scarring on his chest from the slash wounds, but that was nothing compared to what it could have been. Sometimes he'd wake up in the night screaming, remembering that night and remembering watching the light leave Luthor's eyes as he killed him stone dead, but Derek would always be there in person, tracing the scars with his fingers or his tongue, which calmed Stiles down a great deal, or Derek was just a phone call away. All he needed to do was ring Derek up at stupid o'clock in the morning and his very own guard wolf would come running.

He knew that Derek still blamed himself. He'd see Derek glance sideways at him if that night was mentioned, or if Stiles winced in pain from the bruises on his chest, but Stiles reminded him every day that this _wasn't his fault_. Derek would just have to get past that and move on with their lives. Together. Stiles had made that jump and Derek would have to too. He knew Derek would have a hard time accepting what had happened. He was just glad to be there when Derek was having down days, to be the one to cheer the wolf up, to tell Derek to _stop treating him like glass. _

"Welcome to the pack as an official wolf," Derek said, clasping Jackson's shoulder and giving him a little shake.

Stiles grinned and got up to walk over to Derek who wrapped an arm around his waist. "Are you sure you don't want to become a wolf, Stiles? It's pretty awesome," Erica stated, running her hand along Boyd's chest who inhaled sharply.

Stiles smiled. "Nah," he responded, running a hand through his longer hair, smiling slightly as he felt Derek tense beside him, knowing that it was _his hair_, out of all the things that turned the wolf on the most, "I think I'd prefer to stay human. It'll make me famous one day, you'll see. I'll have novels and films written about me, Matt Damon will star as the main character."

This earned a nudge in the side from Derek, and a cushion thrown in his face by Scott. They all laughed together and Stiles scowled, but eventually laughed along with them.

"Food time, I reckon," Derek announced, nuzzling his face into Stiles' hair and inhaling deeply before pulling away to walk over to Scott. "Please buy enough for us all this time, last time Jackson pretty much ate the lot and considering he's a wolf now, he's probably going to do the same.

"Coming right up alpha," Scott said, standing up and bowing his head to Derek, "mom", he said, turning towards Stiles and bowing his head once more.

"I am not your fricking mother Scott I swear to God if you say that one more time..."

Scott laughed and picked out his keys from his pocket. "Second alpha. Alpha-mate, whatever."

"Just call me Stiles," Stiles replied and sighed outwardly, falling down onto the sofa where Derek was now sat.

"Okay," Scott replied and followed Allison to the front door. "Mom Stiles!" He called over his shoulder and before Stiles could get up and kill him, he was out the door.

"I'm going to have to get used to that, aren't I?" Stiles said to Derek, who only laughed and placed one hand on Stiles' knee.

"Pretty much, Scott is the second most ignorant person I know. Second to you."

Stiles punched him in the side and Derek only laughed again.

They ate their pizza once Scott and Allison had returned with about ten pizza boxes, and talked about the film Lydia had put on once she calmed down and the town, how Jackson was going to be the baby werewolf now, so it was officially okay to take the piss out of him.

"So Stiles, what will this film be called that stars Matt Damon?" Scott asked later in the night, and Stiles thought for a moment. He looked at Derek, and then back at the rest of the pack. He ran a hand through the air, as if mapping out a rainbow with his palm.

"The boy who ran with the wolves."

* * *

**If you'd like me to continue posting my fics here (once I actually write new ones) then just post in the comments or send me a PM, because now I finally have an ao3 account my fics will be posted there first! Thank you for all of your continued support and I hope this fic was good enough for all of you!**


End file.
